Judith Grimes: The Lil' Kicker of Asses
by Bella S James
Summary: Seventeen years after the Governor and Terminus, and the group returns back to Georgia. This is the story of Judith "Asskicker" Grimes, because she deserves a good one... And yes, there is Bethyl.
1. Home

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, so with this whole hiatus, I'm getting withdrawal symptoms, and I'm worried for my health. This helps. I like the idea of future Judith, so this is her hypothetical story, which we won't be able to really see. If you don't like it, then write your own damn story. Oh, and review.

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Chapter 1:

Home

I crouched there, hidden behind the turned over car just waiting for the herd to clear. Couldn't have been more than fifty of them, but apparently it's better to be safe then sorry. So here I was, glaring at those bastards, not being able to do anything about it. It was a tease is what it was!

This is the part I hated most; just waiting when there's a fight to be won. Hell, it's all about the fight. I can take down twenty of them surrounding me with nothing but a broken arrow to keep me safe—which I've done before. One other time I was able to take down an entire herd with only a machete and a bow and arrow, but nobody believed me when I told them.

It took every ounce of restraint that I had not to slaughter them all; and I would have to if it weren't for my dad.

Rick Grimes.

To our people, he was a hero; to Daryl, he was a brother; and to my brother, he was nothing short of godlike. But to me, he was just a pain in the ass. He was all 'no using your gun unless necessary', 'no putting your life in danger to help strangers', 'no killing walkers without a chaperone', blah, blah, blah... What a buzz-kill.

The last of the herd just passed the car when I couldn't wait anymore. But when I reached for the machete by my feet, Carl's hand gripped at my arm and I couldn't withhold my eye roll.

"No," he grunted warningly. Carl was just about the coolest guy in my family and was pretty much my best friend, even though he was thirty and I was seventeen. But he treated me like an equal when no one else did, and that was awesome. He and I had a lot in common, except he was cleaner. Apparently a sense of personal hygiene can skip a generation.

"Fine," I sneered through a forced grin. The Southern heat was killing me so I tied up my long brown hair into a ponytail, but it still heated up my shoulder blades. Carol used to say I looked just like my mom, but I could never know that for sure. There were no pictures of her and no one really liked to talk about her, except Carl.

The herd was about ten yards away from us when Carl finally let go of my arm. My hand gripped tightly around the handle of my machete as we stood. Across the side of the highway I saw dad's shaggy head pop up from behind another rusty car, and then Michonne's. Dad looked all weary-eyed and intense like he almost always does while Michonne looked all elegant with her head held high and her sword hanging off her shoulder—like a queen. The next face I saw was Beth's fresh faced one. She wasn't much older than Carl, but somehow looked younger than me and I don't know if that says more about her or me, age wise. I cocked a brow when her huge form came into view; no matter how many times I saw her, the pregnancy thing still threw me. It was weird; Beth still seemed too young to have a kid, and Daryl seemed _way_ too old. Speaking of Daryl...

"Where is he?" I whispered and Carl knew who I was talking about.

He strode quietly towards the middle of the highway with me lagging behind him. "On a hunt. We're almost outta food so it seemed like a good idea."

I shrugged. "Alright, but I could've helped if he just asked."

Carl looked at me and snorted, tugging back his overgrown hair behind his eyes. "Yeah, like Daryl would ever ask for help." I grinned in agreement and the two of us stood in silence as the others approached.

"That was a close call," Rick warned them as he marched to the middle, "We gotta be more quiet."

"We know, Rick," Beth told him with a small smile in that reassuring way she always did. "And we will be. I guess it's just good to be back," she said, her smile becoming an excited grin.

"Guess it has been awhile," Abraham agreed from behind me. I liked him. He was like a big bear; fun to cuddle—you know, when you're not doing serious stuff like killing walkers. Then I felt Tara's presence as she flicked me in the back of the head. I knew it was Tara because no one was that immature, that and her giggle was very unique. As was the snort that followed.

"Dude," I hissed with yet another eye roll, but she knew I was kidding when it was followed by my hidden smirk. Dad didn't appreciate it when I wasn't taking things seriously.

"Judith," Rick warned and I just smiled back innocently. He looked from me to Carl and they exchanged a look. He put his hands on his hips and began his inevitable speech. "Y'all need to be more careful, now that we're back in Atlanta. It's not as safe out here like back in Washington."

"Yeah, why is that?" Tara asked, genuinely confused.

Rick glanced down at his worn out shoes. "Seems to me like the walkers have been migrating down South, further away from the cold."

"So what does that mean for us?" Beth asked, placing her hand on her back for support.

Rick sighed tiredly over the news. "Means... It means we gotta be more careful..." Dad looked directly at me then, like I'm the only one who needed to be told. I bit my tongue to stop from saying something snide or sarcastic and Carl gave me a look to support that.

It sucks being the youngest.

Dad used to treat me like an equal, until the night Carol died. I was around thirteen then. After that dad never treated me the same, and Carl started treating me like an equal. He said that he understood me.

"You all know why we're back here. And we gotta make it work, this time. This was our home," Rick told us and his voice grew louder and louder. "This was always our home. It's time we came back to it... Back to where we belong."

Everyone looked to him with proud eyes, nodding slightly in agreement with everything Rick was saying, but I couldn't join in. Not really.

The only home I know of is Washington, and it's destroyed.

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**Author's Notes:** Okay, so not everybody is still alive, but just because they're not in the story yet, doesn't mean they won't be later... Or does it...? Heh.


	2. Fatherhood

Chapter 2:

Fatherhood

It was my turn to do the night watch, and I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. I really wasn't used to the heat, even at night I was sweating my ass off. I'd slept in the woods before; sometimes when things got really bad up in Washington, we would retreat into the woods for safety. But I still wasn't used to it. I preferred the open roads because you knew your surroundings better but dad said it was safer in the woods by the highway.

So there I sat with a bow and arrow in my lap leaning up against a tree.

We didn't leave with much since we were kinda in a hurry. The only things we really brought were weapons and whatever was in our bags at the time. So when I saw Beth shivering, because apparently I was the only one who felt the heat, I felt a flash of anger. It wasn't right that Beth had to leave Washington in the condition she was in.

I gripped tightly at my bow and glanced back over at Beth, still shivering, tossing and turning in her sleep. Then I stared at my leather jacket that I had neglected to wear and yanked at it. I hopped between all the sleeping bodies, trying to keep a perfect balance and not fall on anybody. I lost my footing a little and near stood on Rick's face, then grinned at the close call. Beth laid there hugging herself with Daryl next to her, his arm underneath her blonde head. I smiled down at them for a second until I realised how creepy that could be construed, then flicked out my jacket and gently placed it over her stomach.

I felt proud when the shivering stopped and walked back over to my tree. I sighed from the heat and dabbed away the sweat on my forehead with the dirty rag from my pocket, probably leaving grease marks across my face.

Oh well.

I stared over at Tara who had incidentally leaned into Abraham's rather large body and I grinned. I saw my dad sleeping between them and Michonne, whose hand was naturally curled around her sword. And then I saw Carl curled up in a ball at the edge of our circle all on his own.

I worried about him sometimes. Worried that maybe he was too lonely. But this world kind of has a slim pickings problem and we haven't exactly come across many friendly types. And the ones we did didn't last long.

I didn't have that problem; the lonely thing... Hell, I preferred it. Guess it's because I've grown up surrounded by family, never with a moment to myself. It was moments like these that were worth cherishing.

But the moments with walkers were even better.

I heard the groans and the snapping of twigs; four, maybe five were coming our way from behind me and my tree. I considered waking up Tara or Carl, but I knew the long travel had tired them out, and they really needed to rest.

Without another second's hesitation, I picked up my machete that I named 'Dally' with my bow slung over my shoulder and ran silently towards the walkers. I slowed down when I heard them from mere meters away and crouched slightly with my machete raised in front of me, readjusting my grip. The sounds they made muted out slightly by the pumping of my heart and I smirked slightly in anticipation.

Then I saw them. Shit. I miscalculated; there were ten of them, which really changed things. "Shit," I muttered to myself as their stench began to waft up my nose. I stared down at my feet and saw my saviour. A little rock; no bigger than the size of my palm. I tucked Dally into my belt, raised my bow and slung the rock against the trees opposite me. The walkers heard and turned around, heading towards the noise.

Morons.

I followed them slowly and quietly, getting closer and closer. They were in a circular clump and I began to raise my machete again as I approached them.

I finished them off within seconds. I sliced off the heads of the two closest to me in one hard swing, then twirled and hit the one to the left at the back of the head, then yanked. I heard the walker slump to the ground and by that point, three of the walkers had their hands near on me. I kicked one of them away by the stomach and it fell to the ground for a moment, then punched the other with a gloved hand hard enough that it fell as well.

"Aargh," groaned the fat one loudly as its hands curled around my shoulders, pushing me against a tree. But I didn't panic. I merely stared into its dead eyes as I placed the flat blade against its chin, then thrusted it up into its skull. The other two had made it up to their knees making it easy for me to slice their heads off.

That left the other four.

Two were inches away from me and the others were directly behind them like they were waiting in line for their turn. I didn't have enough space in front of me to kill them both with the machete, so I left it stuck in one of their heads, and pushed away the other with my hands. I yanked the hunters knife from my boot and shoved it through the eye of the one closest to me, then did the same with the other one. Then there was one simple one left.

Cake.

I raised my blade above my head, aimed and threw it at the walker's head. It went right between the eyes. My aim wasn't that good—it was just luck, but still... It counts.

It was only after that I realised how out of breath I was. I stared down at the walkers that surrounded me and I grinned. Rick says it's not something to be proud of, but Carl told me it was ok to be. Said he understood.

"I win," I said to myself before smirking once more and reaching for my weapons. I yanked my hunters knife out of the bald head and wiped it against the walker's shredded shirt, and did the same with Dally.

"Your timing needs work, girl," someone grunted. Ah, that familiarly gruff grunt that could come from none other than Daryl Dixon.

I stood up, not taking my eyes off my handy work and frowned. "The hell's wrong with my timing?"

"A lot of thangs," he said. I cocked my head to stare at him narrowly as he leaned against a tree with his arms crossed and his head lowered in that slight way he did.

I shoved my blade back into my boot after momentarily pointing it at him. "You're the one who taught me," I informed him.

"Mm," he murmured, stroking his lips with his thumb, "Y'think you would have better timin' then, huh?"

I grinned and he snorted in return. "Come on," he said, raising his arm towards me. If it were my dad, I would have said something snide, or at least given him a glare. But this was Daryl. I wouldn't dare disrespect him. So I walked onwards, back towards our pathetic little camp.

I heard Daryl trip over the wired cans and saw him stumble a little, glaring at the cans angrily like it was their fault.

"Your stealth needs work," I quipped, holding back a smirk.

His glare at the cans raised to look at me. "Best watch your mouth there, Lil' Asskicker," he said with the warning raise of his brow.

Asskicker... See, that was a cool name. Way cooler than Judith. I remembered back to the time when I was about ten and I complained to Carl about that name and how it was so typical of dad to choose such a sucky one. He waited ten whole minutes of my bitching about my lame name before telling me he was the one who actually named me.

Dick.

Well, I was the dick. But he was a dick for making me out to be a dick. I liked the name Judith more after that, though still not as much as I liked Asskicker. Thanks, Daryl.

We were lucky not to have woken anyone by the noise Daryl made. But considering the fact that most of us hadn't gotten more than a few hours' sleep in the past three days, it made sense that it didn't wake them.

"You really should learn to be more quiet," I teased and he just stared at me with that 'not impressed' face.

"Want me to take over watch?"

I shook my head, not considering it for a second. "Nah, man. You should get more sleep than anyone. Not like you're gonna be getting much after the baby pops out."

He pressed his lips together and bobbed his head slowly in agreement. I was told that once it was hard to get Daryl to shut the hell up; apparently everything that came out of his mouth was something racist—but clearly he'd changed. Carl said that I was partial to that because I was a baby and all... Brought hope or whatever to the group.

Personally, I was curious to meet the old Daryl.

"You okay?" I asked him in a whisper as I sat back against my tree while he just stood and lingered.

"Mm-hm... Just the whole baby thang..."

I frowned. "My, my, is the great Daryl Dixon scared of fatherhood?"

His aged eyes narrowed down on me in a slight glare. "Maybe," he sneered, before staring down at his shoes.

I found it hard to believe that Daryl could be scared of anything. He was the bravest person I knew. "Well..." I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. Not in the least. "You know... _Don't_..." I said, but sort of with a question mark at the end.

Man, I suck at the whole comforting stuff. Something me and him had in common.

"Real comforting, thanks," he muttered sarcastically.

I was totally useless. I knew nothing about fatherhood or being a parent. I was the youngest here; everyone took care of me as a baby, so what the hell did I know? At this point, I wanted nothing more then for Beth to just wake up.

I raised my bow over my head and laid it across my lap, keeping my quiver full of arrows strung over my shoulder. "Look, you're gonna be great," I told him. "Took care of me, didn't you?" I smiled at him weakly. "That's what I'm told, anyway," I said with a shrug.

Daryl just bobbed his head, not saying a word. It was like talking to a wall.

"Yeah but... you were easy... Didn't say nothin'."

I snorted, "Trust me, Daryl, if it's your kid, it won't make a sound."

Daryl gave me a weak smile before coming and sitting against the tree next to me. "I just... I can't lose no more people... I'm tired of it."

I stared at his face, lit up by the light of the full moon. He looked sad; I don't know how else to describe it. He just looked sad.

"You're gonna be a great dad," I told him with a wide smile, before I even knew what I was saying.

"I just hope I'm as good as Rick is," he grunted, glancing sideways at me before looking back down at the floor.

I bobbed my head slowly. I didn't want to disagree with him, because I knew Rick was a good dad. He raised me and he raised my brother, so he must be a great dad.

"You will be." I said, knowing without a doubt that I was telling the truth.

Daryl smirked slightly. "Sadly the best name's already been taken." He smiled at me and nudged my shoulder with his. "Lil' Asskicker."


	3. Enjoy the little things

Chapter 3:

Enjoy the little things

People began waking up about three hours after the sun came up. The only person who didn't was Beth, but Daryl told us to let her sleep and no one challenged that. We all respected Beth, especially me. I mean, how sucky would it be to be a thousand pounds heavier when you need to sprint away from walkers and hold a gun in front of you? This baby was supposed to happen in Washington; in a safe place with a nursery waiting for it, but instead Beth had to have it God knows where. In a ditch? On the side of a road? Or in the bloody woods?

Such a pain in the ass this pregnancy was...

"Judith." I turned around and saw Carl crouching on one knee by the fire, his face blocked by his sherif's hat. Man, that thing was old.

I went and sat next to him, kind of having to drag my feet a little because I was still tired from last night. Maybe I should have let Daryl take over watch after all.

Without saying a word, Carl started handing me dead squirrels and rabbits to gut, which I obligingly did. I didn't mind as much as the other, seeing this is the food I'd been raised on.

"How was watch last night?"

I frowned. Carl never asked me about my watches before. "Why?"

He glanced in my direction, then back down at the fire where he was roasting some rabbit on a stick.

He just shrugged, then I got anxious. "...No seriously, why?"

Carl snorted quietly in amusement and took his time before answering in that brooding man way he always did. "This isn't Washington, Jude."

"Really?" I asked sarcastically with widening eyes.

"Dammit, Judith!" Carl growled, then immediately lowered his voice after a few heads turned. He leaned closer to me and said, "Things are different here... You have to be careful." The way he said that, really clear and concise with small pauses between each word. I knew whenever he talked like that that I had to listen.

I sighed. "Last night was fine...It's just—" I stopped myself. Probably best I don't tell him.

Carl looked up and stared at me intensely with those piercing blue eyes that were pretty much mirrors of my own. The only difference was the scar he had running across his left eyebrow down to the corner of his eye. He told me he got that at some place called Terminus.

"'Just' what, Jude?" He asked.

I gritted my teeth and cleared my throat in that nervous way I did. Then I sighed. "Look, you guys needed your rest and I knew I could take care of it. It's fine—I'm fine," I assured him, but he just stared at me sternly. I shrugged my brow. "Honest."

He flexed his neck and looked back to the fire, turning the rabbit around in the flames. "How many?"

I shrugged, "Not many," I lied.

"How many?" He growled quietly just like Rick did.

I shrugged again, "...Ten—"

"God dammit, Judith!" Carl stood up angrily and threw the rabbit into the laid out tinfoil. I rubbed at my forehead nervously, then shook my head and sneered at him to relax.

That's when dad approached us, a concerned brow raised. "Everything okay?"

I looked up at him and shrugged. "Yeah, everything's fine, Rick," I said and that earned me a stern look. I waited a few seconds for him to nod and turn back to Daryl and Michonne before hastily standing up and gripping at Carl's arm, yanking him further away from dad and the fire.

I glanced behind me making sure I was out of ear shot. "Look, you can't tell dad."

Carl just stared at me.

"Please," I asked him through gritted teeth, then sighed. "C'mon, Carl, you know how he is..."

Carl shook his head, "Dad is the way he is for a reason, Jude. You think he has all these rules deliberately to annoy you?"

Yes.

"No," I said.

Carl sighed tiredly. "I don't like lying to dad, but I will." I grinned in relief.

"Just," Carl continued making my empty stomach lurch. "Don't do anythin' that stupid again, okay?"

I laughed. "Carl, you know I can't promise that," then I grinned, "I am my father's daughter."

Carl glared at me for as long as he could before cracking a grin. "Honestly, you're a bigger pain in my ass than walkers."

"Stop, I'm blushing," I said sarcastically and he elbowed me in the gut. So I shoved him a little too hard, making him grin and literally jump on me, messing up my already appalling hair. So I flicked off his hat and ran towards the fire before he could get another hit in.

Me and Carl acted like idiots sometimes, but of all the rules my dad had set for us, my favourite by far was "to enjoy the little things".

Tara and I were tearing away shards of meat from the tiny rabbit we were sharing when Beth finally awoke. When she saw that everyone else had packed everything up and were already eating, she began to blush. When she noticed my black leather jacket was covering her, she blushed even more. Her naive blue eyes met mine and she smiled that cute smile of hers as a 'thank you'.

I loved that smile. I always thought that if I could meet my mom, that she would have Beth's smile.

But even so, there was something in that smile that was broken; sad, even. When I was like six I asked Daryl about it when he was teaching me how to hunt. I was six, so I wasn't fully aware of Daryl's incapability to talk about anything involving the word 'feelings'. He found it in him to tell me about Maggie, her sister. And Glenn.

I guess when you lose your sister, you break a little. There's sadness even in your happiest moments.

"Dude, you're doing that thing again."

Tara's voice pulled me out of my trance and I made a grunting cough sound for some reason, like to mask what I was thinking about. "What thing?"

She looked at me with a smug-like smile. "The Judith thing."

I raised a brow. "...'The Judith thing'?" I questioned.

"Yeah," Tara said with a grin. I stared at her until she gave me a further explanation. "You know. When you stare at something or someone a little too long to the point where it becomes, uh..." She trailed off.

I turned my body to face her completely and stared at her stiffly, letting my narrow eyes do the work. "Becomes what, Tara?"

"Weird!"

"Weird?"

"Yeah, weird. Like a hawk studying its prey before_ lunging _for the kill!" Tara said all enthusiastic-like.

I paused with my lips parted, genuinely stunned. "Are you saying that I look at my family like they're rats?"

Tara gave me a crooked smile and a little head bob. "Yeah, but in a nice way."

I just stared at her. She glanced back from me to the food multiple times before she got uncomfortable.

I eventually turned back to the rabbit, pulling off whatever meat was left. "You know it's moments like these that make me question our friendship," I said and Tara grinned. Then she extended her closed fist towards me and said "We cool?".

I had grown up with this, but even I knew it was stupid. I bumped my fist against hers, but I couldn't resist calling her a dork.

By this point, Beth had made it over to us and sat by the small fire. Yes, that's how slow pregnant women are. Especially in their ninth month, which I hear is the last.

"Here," Beth said, handing me my jacket back, then began to lower her massive circumference of a body. I stood up to help her sit down and started shrugging on my jacket even though the heat was still a bitch.

"How you feeling?" Tara asked with a kind tone in her voice. I had to resist an eye roll; Beth was tougher than she seemed and she didn't need to be coddled.

And even though I could tell it irked her a little she just smiled and said, "I'm fine."

"Yeah? How'd you sleep?" Tara asked.

Beth glanced over at me with that beloved smile across her pink lips. "Like a baby."

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so this could be considered a frivolous chapter, but I think getting the family dynamic across is always good. Plus, you know...Tara...

Oh, and though reviews are always appreciated—hell, they're the best part, please do better ones. I mean... come on, guys... I'm writing a whole damn story and you give me no more than three single words?


	4. What lies ahead

Chapter 4:

What lies ahead

We were slow at it, but eventually got back in our cars and drove up the motorway. We kept it small; got whatever vehicles we could and just drove. No one really knew where we were going. Dad was all big talk about going back to our 'home' and staying there, but that was in more of the big picture sense. It was like 'great, we're in Atlanta. Now what?'.

Dad's jeep was of course leading the charge with Carl and Michonne. Then these was the obnoxious truck with blue flames painted on the side that Abraham and Tara were in. It was a four seater with an open boot to shove our stuff in. Daryl and Beth used to ride together on his Indian Chief cruiser, but not since she couldn't fit on it anymore. So now they rode with Abraham and I took his bike... God Forbid we leave it in Atlanta.

When I was a kid and all my chores were done, my reward would be a ride around on Daryl's motorcycle. When I turned ten he even started teaching me how to ride it. I can't begin to express how angry he was when I crashed it.

After about twenty minutes of just driving down this never-ending motorway did we actually stop. When Abraham's car started to slow down, I drove around and to the front to see why. Ah.

Walkers.

Of course. Must be one of those days ending with the word 'day'. I didn't even stop because there were just five of 'em. I just reached for my machete and sliced as I drove, then slowed down when I realised dad's car hadn't moved. When he killed the engine, so did I.

The three of them hopped out of the car and Carl laid out a map on the hood. I slung my leg over and walked towards them, awaiting instructions.

"What's up, Rick?" I asked him. "You lost?"

He gave me a tired expression, running his callused fingers through his curly mass of brown hair with the grey showing through.

"Dad, how about we head this way, cut through this intersection here and reach the motorway near here?" He suggested while stabbing different parts of the map with his finger.

"Hm," he contemplated, mulling it over in his mind first. I smirked; if it was Carl's plan, it was a good plan.

Carl readjusted his footing and chose to promote his case further, "Then it's only a half a day's walk from here."

Dad frowned down at the map. "No... that cuts over the train tracks. I wanna stay clear from there."

Carl sighed and stared intently into dad's eyes. "It's been sixteen years, dad. You really think Terminus'll still be there?"

He just shook his head. "I don't wanna risk it."

Carl nodded his head, but looked down at his shoes for a moment and I knew Carl was disappointed.

Daryl's muscular figure and squinting eyes came into view along with Abraham and Tara behind him. He placed his hands on his hips and looked to Rick for an explanation, but Carl spoke instead. "I think we should cut through the train tracks to save time."

Daryl snorted before realising it was rude. He looked from Rick to Carl again. "You crazy?"

Carl scoffed and turned to Daryl, "Look, it's not like we're gonna—" That's when I stopped paying much attention.

I knew my opinion would be void seeing I didn't know jack about Atlanta. That, plus I didn't really care. The leaders were discussing; better to just let them hash it out.

The road ahead was long, wide and clear. If any walkers were to come, you could see them before they could do any real damage. But we had just passed more than one group of walkers and the roads weren't too clear. It was way too easy to get attacked, so I took it upon myself to stay on point.

I could hear their arguing getting louder meaning it could go on for awhile. There was absolutely nothing happening as far as I could see, so I leaned against the back of the blue truck and waited. The sleep deprivation was finally hitting me, but I figured sleeping might be a tad reckless.

I drummed my fingers against the rim of the truck, just waiting for something interesting to come along. That interesting thing just happened to go by the name Abraham.

"How are things with you, darlin'?" He asked all gruff and macho.

I just shrugged, realising that talking involved energy that I couldn't afford to waste. Abe bobbed along, then leaned up against the truck next to me, twirling his red moustache that I always found ridiculous.

Once, back in Washington, I was lucky enough to come across an old video tape with some cartoons on it. I didn't even know what a cartoon was until Carl explained it to me. It took a few months, and I don't remember how, but we ended up watching that video tape and the only thing I remember from it was this one real weird character with the name Yosemite Sam who was some kind of cowboy or something... I was only about four, but the reason I remembered Yosemite Sam was because I thought it looked a lot like Abraham.

Anyways, growing up I always called Abraham Yosemite Sam until he begged me to stop. Now I just call him that to annoy him from time to time.

"See anything?"

"Huh?" I was so tired all of the sudden, I couldn't think straight.

He chuckled. "Sounds like you need some sleep."

I sighed heavily. "Your observance skills are impressive," I said. Sarcastic once again. But that just made Abraham chuckle more. Me and him didn't really have much of a bond, but I always admired him. He was tougher than most; enjoyed the fight and didn't care much for what people thought. May not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but we didn't exactly count on him for his brains.

"Look'e what we got here..."

It took me a moment to register what Abe was saying until I saw what he was heading towards. I reached for my beloved machete, Dally, and strutted over to the lame brain.

"Well... aren't you a stunner," Abe said with a wide smile. When he looked at me I smiled in agreement, but I never really got into taunting them. Though I must say that this one place was disturbingly unattractive. The thing that used to be a girl, I think was all skin and bones, but completely bloated around the stomach—must've had a big meal recently. Half her face looked like it was carved off and there were only patches of hair left. Her leg seemed completely turned around and I have no idea what bone it was but it was poking out of her leg, all red and brown with blood.

I grimaced. "Yeah, gross."

Abraham grinned again and began twirling his baseball bat around before raising it at the ready. "Come on, darlin'," he said to it. I just kept my mouth shut, but couldn't resist a snort. He chuckled, then whacked it in its bloated stomach.

Didn't do the trick.

He glanced at me expectantly. "After you," he said, handing me the bat. I obligingly took it, doing the same twirl between my fingers—he's the one who taught me that, once upon a time.

I swung it above the slow moving walker's head and smacked it at it's knees. It fell to the floor, then quickly brought it's torso upright. I wanted to swing for the head incase other walkers approached and we got overrun, which was unlikely but still possible. But when I hit it right up the neck, the jaw came swinging off and somehow the rest of it was fine.

"Aw, c'mon," I grunted to myself, then handed back the bat to Abraham who held his hand out for it. He aimed for the bloated stomach again, and when he hit it, this time it got his desired effect.

The stomach exploded sorta like a water balloon would, only redder and didn't have a tendency to dry out without visible representation it was ever there to begin with. Needless to say, Abraham and I were sprayed with blood, but at least I knew to turn my head. Ha! Now only half my face was red... I call that a win in this world.

As I wiped the grossness out of my left eye I heard Abraham laugh with joy and pride. All I could think was to each their own. Suppose we all have ways of blowing off steam.

"Asskicker!" I heard Daryl call from the side of the truck.

"Comin'!" I tapped Abraham on the shoulder and walked towards the group. When dad saw me, he did a small double-take but didn't say anything more, even though half my body was red, which may not be obvious against a black shirt, but is against skin as pale as mine.

Surprisingly, Daryl was the upset one when he saw me. He looked me up and down with a mixed look of disgust and anger. "What the hell?" He sneered timidly (or as timid as Daryl can be) to Abraham who just kept on smiling. Daryl placed his crossbow atop the car and walked over to me, whipping out his red rag from his back pocket as he did.

"Here," Daryl grumbled, placing the rag against my forehead and dragging it gently down the side of my face, wiping the blood away. Unfortunately Daryl didn't know when to stop, so when he got down to my neck he coughed awkwardly and ever so uncomfortably moved towards my shoulder instead of my cleavage. I smirked at his own expense, and when he started to blush I put him out of his misery and took the rag from him, saying "Thank you," and taking care of the rest.

When I met Carl's eyes, we started laughing quietly to ourselves in amusement but stopped when dad cleared his throat. I finished getting the blood off my chest by that point.

"Carl's plan's good," dad said and I smiled at my brother, "so we're gonna cut through the tracks and make it to the prison. It's ten now, so we could make it by sun down, but we gotta keep clear of trouble, you hear me?" He warned us. And by 'us' I mean 'me'.

Rick looked at all of us slowly and darkly then made a gesture with his head so we knew to get back in our cars.

"Daryl," I tapped him on his sweaty arm after he swung his crossbow back over his shoulder with his red rag in my hand. He took it and shoved it deep into his back pocket with a simple head bob then headed towards the truck.

"Hey, Daryl." He turned back and looked at me. "When Rick said we needed to keep clear of trouble... What did he mean?"

He remained quiet for a long moment and I wondered if he was going to say anything at all. Then he did, but his answer only raised more questions for me.

"Let's hope you don't find out."


	5. Anticipation

Chapter 5:

Anticipation

We had driven as close to the woods as we could for hours before we had to get out and walk the rest of the way, stopping our car before a tunnel on the tracks. While we camouflaged the vehicles, I noticed things around me.

Blood stains on the train tracks and on the wall of the tunnel. Old footprints of blood and dirt leading into the tunnel. Bullet holes in the walls as well as old shell casings caught between wood planks.

"Let's move," dad said and we crossed over them towards the small hill. I lagged behind when I stood on a rusty sign beneath my feet. I crouched down and flicked the leaves off it, then read it.

_Terminus. Community for all. Sanctuary for all. Those who arrive survive._

"Jude," Tara hissed at me with a grin. I glanced up to see her waiting for me, so I stood up and jogged after her, leaving that sign there on the ground amongst the dirt where I knew it belonged.

"Hey Daryl," I said when he walked ahead of us. Usually Daryl was always leading the charge through places like the woods, but not since he knocked up Beth. Guess he figured he was needed.

He glanced behind him then turned back ahead, and slowed down for me. I jogged up to him then kept at a fast pace so we were at front of everyone else.

"Okay," I began, "So when I asked you before what trouble I needed to stay out of and you said that I didn't want to find out," I paused.

"Uh-huh," he said with a nod as he kept his eyes at the ground ahead.

"Yeah, well that's usually the answer people give at the end of really crappy books in order to get you to buy the next shit fest of bad just so you can find out what the real answer to the question is."

He just stared at me for a moment then back to the ground.

"Well I'm waiting for the real answer, Daryl."

I could tell Daryl contemplated what to tell me; clearly it had something to do with Terminus and that was always a touchy subject. A different type of shit fest of bad. My family never told me anything involving Terminus or the day the farm got overrun, or about some douchebag who people called 'The Governor'.

With the way Daryl was staring at me, I thought he might tell me what really happened at Terminus, but then he just gave me a weak smile and a shrug. "It's nothin' you can't handle, Little Asskicker."

That didn't reassure me. Why didn't it reassure me? Daryl saying that always reassured me. Huh.

Interesting.

I didn't know I had actually stopped moving until Tara pretty much knocked me over. After having rammed into me on purpose, of course.

"Ow," I said with a grin and already the interesting feeling I had began to disappear.

Tara walked in front of me and twirled on her heals, starting to walk backwards. "Sorry, _Lil' Asskicker_," she mocked. I cocked a brow at her mockery.

Then she walked backwards into Abraham in that awkward clumsy way that was her nature and I laughed at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled to him with a crooked smile before walking back next to my side.

I stared at her in amusement. "You're a dork," I said with a smile.

"Whatever," she said 'cooly' making my smile widen.

For the next two hours of walking through the woods, we all had to slow down for Beth who was seriously lagging and out of breath. When she stumbled a little, Daryl was by her side in a heartbeat. He wrapped his arm around her waist and placed his other hand against her stomach. "You okay, Beth?" He asked her. His voice was even (and dark and gruff as always) but I knew he was freaked because his eyes were doing that blinking, squinting thing they did when he was freaked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Daryl," Beth breathed, holding onto a tree as well as him for support, only her grip on Daryl never loosened. "I just tripped on a stick," she continued then gave a small and unbelievably cute laugh, "I'm surprised I can see anything over my big belly."

"Nobody can," Tara said and I elbowed her in the gut. Not too gently, either.

Daryl ignored Tara, not taking his eyes off Beth for a second. "We gotta stop, Rick."

I could hear dad's impatient sigh from here, and I knew where he was coming from. "No, we have to keep moving."

"We're stopping," Daryl said more forcefully. I raised my brow in surprise. Since when did Daryl go against dad's authority? Huh. Guess future baby and unofficial wife despite the lack of public intimacy came before weird bromance relationship which I always questioned growing up.

"Fine. Just for a minute," dad conceded and he and Daryl shared a look and the smallest nods. See, it was moments like these that made us all question dad's relationship with Daryl every now and then.

"C'mon," Daryl said, lowering her to the floor gently by the waist and I took her by the hand, which she squeezed. Hard. Like really hard. My hand started to go numb.

Stupid pregnancy.

"Thanks," Beth said with a grin and I smiled at her.

"You're wel—" I started to say until I looked up to see her looking at Daryl, of course. Daryl sat next to her, keeping his arm around her waist and kept staring at her while still doing that blinking , squinting thing. Beth stared back with that adorable smile.

I cleared my throat. "You're welcome," I muttered, letting go of her hand. Then I leaned over Beth slightly. "Oh yeah, you're gonna be a terrible father," I said to Daryl, my voice pretty much dripping with sarcasm and he wisely chose to ignore me.

I got up and walked over to Tara who was leaning against a tree with her arms and ankles crossed. She gave me a warm smile, then turned that smile towards Daryl and Beth, and I frowned. "You seem happy."

"I want that," she said through her smile.

I raised a brow in surprise. "Well I know you're not talking about Daryl, because _gay_. And Beth's pregnant and therefore undesirable, so what precisely is it that you want from this?" I asked while rubbing at my soon to be bruised hand through my fingerless leather glove.

"You always seem so nice about Beth, and then you open your mouth."

I smirked. "So what precisely do you want?" I asked again.

"Just... _That_."

"Very specific."

"I want what they have... I mean, Daryl and Beth are totally the Ross and Rachel of the walker world."

I stared at her blankly. "...Okay, I don't know what that means."

She patted me on the shoulder in that irksomely patronising way. "Before your time, kiddo."

I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, that only works if you have the mental capacity of someone aged older than twelve, so," I said with a charming smile then looked back at Beth and Daryl. Hm. Perhaps I could understand what Tara meant if I knew what it was already like to be with someone. Seventeen years and surrounded by family but that cliche someone. Although I did feel a strong connection towards Dally the Machete.

"You'll have that," I said in that way that made it sound more like a question than a confirmation which was never comforting.

Tara just continued to stare at the two in love. "Hm."

I don't know why but I kept trying to reassure her, which according to Carl I should _never_ do. "You will. I mean... Just because there are limited people to actually have sex with in this world, doesn't mean that all of them are straight... Theoretically, from what I've read, one in ten people are gay, which means that one in twenty people are lesbians..."

Tara just stared at me.

"So," I continued even though I knew nothing coming out of my mouth was going to be good. "That means that we are bound to come across _one _lesbian eventually, even though we rarely mix with other crowds, and this is assuming these hypothetical lesbians are – for lack of a better word – _doable._"

Tara's stare turned into an unsettling glare. "You're not making me feel any better."

I smiled weakly and shrugged. "I am sure we will find you a lesbian." Tara's glare didn't go away and she just continued to glare at me, and I felt more and more uncomfortable.

Michonne then appeared from between two trees a ways back. Never had I been so grateful for Michonne's presence and then I frowned... I didn't even know she was gone. She had her sword extended by her side and she flicked off the fresh blood. Michonne's eyes slowly moved across us, scanning all of us in that dark, brooding and intense way before speaking. "We have to move."

We didn't ask questions. We just moved. Dad and Daryl exchanged another nod and he and Beth were up and walking with the rest of us.

"Oh look, more trees."

You know, not much can happen on a five hour, or so walk. I mean it can, but it's repetitive. Conversations, moments shared, awkward eye contact with Daryl among different people and walkers.

Blah, blah, woof, woof.

Me and Tara walked together most of the way until she and Abraham started talking—they had a strong and peculiar bond. Then I walked quietly amongst my own company before me and Carl started talking about random shit. Told me some stories about the old days that I hadn't heard before. This time it was about the day after his seventh birthday when he threw up his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles birthday cake. Of course, the only thing that fascinated me from that story was that there was such a thing as teenage mutant ninja turtles. Seemed a tad ridiculous—then again, so did the whole people drinking blood thing. And the fact that people loved people who drank blood. Ew.

Daryl told us we were approaching the edge of the woods and I got a little excited. No one had definitively told me where we were going, but I figured it must be pretty important if we were willing to cross the tracks to Terminus.

But I noticed something; as we got closer and closer to the edge, people's faces grew darker. Especially dad's and Carl's. No one said anything, not even Tara. The suspense was killing me like a Stephen King novel.

Then Daryl turned to look at us, near the edge of the woods. He just brought his index finger to his lips and mutely told us to shush. Daryl looked back towards the edge, raised his crossbow at the ready and crouched slightly, like he was hunting.

The rest of us got out our weapons.

Over the years, guns have pretty much gone extinct, so everyone advanced to their own thing, but most of our extra weapons had been left behind, either in the cars or in Washington, including one of my favourite weapons; the European halberd, which is kind of an ax-spear combination thing. Before we left into the woods, I picked up some of my other weapons from the trunk that I never really had the opportunity to use in Washington.

So I tucked away my machete into my belt and let my hands flutter behind my back against my weapons of choice, which included my throwing knives and holster wrapped around my upper leg, and the Japanese ninjatos, which were two thin short blades strapped behind my back in a criss-cross pattern so I could just pull them over my shoulders.

...Carl and I came across an untouched weapon collector's house. That was a good day.

Yeah, so anyways I raised my bow and one of my arrows whereas Carl raised his fancy gladiator sword, and dad with his two machetes. Like father, like daughter, I guess. Tara raised her ax and Abraham went for the much more old school metal baseball bat—different from the one we used earlier. Beth simply raised a crowbar, but held it tightly in her two clammy hands. She would never be used to the outside world.

Now we were at the ready...

...My god, that was a lot of douchy weapon talk. (Apologies.)

Daryl began to walk forward with Beth close to him, and he and Michonne were the first to go beyond the trees. Then it was the rest of us with me and Carl at the back making us main protectors. Tara and Abraham exited the woods next to see whatever it was that we were seeing, then Carl. Then me.

What I saw, I had already heard of, but I didn't know this was the destination; the prison.

The place where my mom died. Where the Governor killed Hershel. Where they built their first community. Where I was born—which incidentally killed my mom.

"Welcome home," said Carl grimly.


	6. Until Carol

Chapter 6:

Until Carol

I was expecting the place to be completely overrun with walkers, and maybe even inhabited by new people or something, but it wasn't. Probably because it was blown to shit.

We crossed one-by-one over this tiny bridge then headed towards the fence. There was a wide hole that had clearly been ripped through by the two cars that were inside the overgrown green field.

I didn't notice the faces of the group because I was seeing the prison for the first time since I was a baby. I wanted to know the layout; to know how to escape, where the least trouble would be—all of it. Everyone else here already knew except Tara and Abraham.

The fields weren't covered in walkers like I'd thought it would be. There were no more than ten, which dad, Daryl and Abraham took care of while me and Carl stayed at the back. But as we started to walk up the slope towards the next fence, Carl and I headed towards the front due to his natural instinct to both protect and one-up dad with walker kills, and because of my natural instinct to protect Beth as well as Daryl.

There were only two untouched guard towers left and the others had clearly been bombed. It reminded me of Washington. Or at least what it had become. I realised what had blown up the guard towers and run the gates over when I saw the rusted old tank in the middle of the courtyard. Huh.. Naturally, right? Then when I turned around to look at Daryl, I noticed the smallest of smiles appear on his face and I made a mental note to ask what happened with him and that tank.

Then Beth accidentally kicked a stray crowbar which clacked against the cracked concrete floor. Walkers came out from behind the tank and behind the broken down shelter that was clearly made by hand.

I raised my bow at eye level and aimed it at the closest one.

"Well, shit," Abraham said rather loudly, destroying the silence. I let an arrow fly then gave a quick glance at the thirty or so walkers coming from the other direction behind the building with a faded 'C' on it. Then I looked back towards the mere twenty walkers coming from behind the tank and readied my bow again. Dad and Carl started at the larger crowd of walkers along with Michonne, Tara and Abraham, leaving pretty much just me and Daryl with the others.

Daryl walked in front of Beth at a quick pace towards them, taking down six before whacking the next one with his crossbow out of the way. I raised my bow and kept at the same pace, taking down about eight because I had it easier—not needing to reload so slowly. Then I was out of arrows, so I dumped my bow and reached for the throwing knives around my leg.

Beth managed to take down one, but even then it was a close call and Daryl back closer in front of her. He pulled out his own hunter's knife and started stabbing them up close in the head and I started the knife tossing. The first one slid into the cheek of a particularly fat male-looking walker, but the second one hit through the eye and he was down.

Daryl growled loudly as he was pushed back by one that fell on top of him. I went to help, but Beth had already killed it with her crowbar.

And then there were three.

I yelled a little in exhaustion as I threw my next three knives into their heads—almost perfect shots. Some of them could use a little work, as dad would say. And Daryl, probably.

I turned around and saw Beth trying to pull the big walker off Daryl but couldn't fully, and Daryl was pinned in an awkward position, so I went and yanked it off him. The walker swung behind me, but it's arm stayed with me.

Gross.

I took a moment to grimace before throwing it away and giving Daryl an unneeded hand up. He grunted as he stood and pushed away longish strays of dark brown hair out of eyes along with sweat from his forehead. He stared at me and I stared back with a smirk before he gave me a small nod of approval, which I returned, though my nod wasn't of approval.

The three of us stood breathing heavily in exhaustion, neglecting the fact that the fight wasn't over. Dad and the others were still going at it.

Huh.

Guess me and Daryl were just better at it than the others. Not gonna lie: I felt pretty proud about that.

Daryl yanked out the two closest arrows of his along with his crossbow, tapped me quickly on the shoulder and said "C'mon."

I didn't bother reaching for my bow and arrows, seeing I still had the ninjatos strapped behind my back, as well as my machete and hunter's knife. Beth chased after us, but stayed behind Tara and Carl when she got close while me and Daryl ran straight to the front of the line where twenty more walkers were.

"Guess more came," Daryl growled to me—looks like we both thought there were less for them to handle.

Dad was yelling growls loudly next to me while slashing his machetes everywhere and Carl was taking down two at a time with his gladuis sword with the same yelling growls, only not as loudly and with more wrath in his ice blue was in Michonne's eyes, too.

I guess when you have a world to compare to this one, you have a reason to hate it.

"Judith!" I heard Beth cry from behind me—guess I wasn't paying close attention. I was still sleep deprived, but that was no excuse.

A walker had its mutilated hands on me before I had time to react. I stood a second, almost paralyzed with surprise before giving it one harsh kick with my boot, making both of us fall backwards. I was back up before the walker was though, and I used my last throwing knife to chuck at it's head. Dead—well...

Double dead.

Five walkers were on dad, three were on Carl and near seven were on Michonne, so I ran towards dad. I couldn't even see Daryl and Michonne and a sword was a lethal combination. I knew she'd be fine. Maybe even bored. But dad with two machetes against five walkers?

I whipped out the ninjatos from behind my back and started slashing at the walkers heads. It was fun; they were like mini samurai swords and Michonne had taught me how to use hers. I grinned as I sliced off two heads simultaneously. It was so cool because they fell to their knees, and the heads slid off slowly to the floor before the bodies did.

So gross and so awesome.

Michonne and Carl made their final kill and started doing the rounds with the group, seeing if anyone was bit or scratched. Both dad and I were breathing heavily, resting against our knees. He stood up, straightening out his aging back and gave me one of those reassuring small nods. His wasn't one of gratitude, but of approval. I didn't give him a nod back; just a smirk. Arrogance is said to run thick in my veins. I saw the tiredness in dad's eyes again but that could be mistaken for disappointment.

Dad turned to the group who were all huddled together and out of breath. "Is everybody alright?"

Most of us were too tired to talk, so we all just nodded. I leaned against the wall of the building with the faded 'C' on it and folded my arms. My feet ached, my bones and muscles ached, and there was a war against my eyelids forcing them to stay open. Adrenalin is overrated.

"Okay," dad said with a bob of his head, tucking away his machetes into his belt. The dirty blades left smears of walker blood against his white shirt as he did, which went nicely with the other smears of brains, mud and other questionable things. I think it would be false advertising to say that his shirt was white.

He looked over his shoulder at me then back at the group. Dad pointed towards the gate we entered and gave his orders. "Carl, Judith; you stay on point there and there," he said, pointing towards the gates and the wrecked shelter. I sighed tiredly, but nodded in agreement because regardless of his general personality, I still trusted his judgement.

Dad scanned the group with a narrowed gaze. "Tara you stay on point over here," he ordered, "The rest of you gather in the middle and rest."

We all nodded our heads like robots and headed to where we were ordered. When I walked past him to collect my knives and arrows, he stopped me. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat before speaking like he was approaching a wild dog, not knowing if it would bite. "Judith, you alright on point?"

I forced a smile on my face. "Yes, sir, sergeant sir." Then I went to collect my weapons.

I didn't look up as I yanked my arrows and knives out of various body parts and skulls, but I could see from the corner of my eye dad burying his face in his hands, sighing then tugging them through his curly mass of bloodied hair.

Then Daryl started talking to him. And I went to keep watch.

_Daryl walked up to Rick who seemed more exhausted than anyone; even Judith. He nudged his brother's shoulder gently with his own to get his attention. It was like manly reassurance. "You okay?"_

_Rick unknotted his fingers from his hair, wet from sweat and blood, and looked at Daryl before turning his concerned looking gaze towards the rest of the group. "It's Judith."_

_Daryl glanced down at the floor before looking back to Rick, not feeling the need to say anything._

"_I just..." He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, "I don't know—it seems like everything I do, or even try to do irritates her."_

_Daryl squinted his eyes from the sun when he looked over at Judith, only seeing the back of her slim figure with the swords resting against her shoulders. "She's a kid... S'what kids do. Wouldn't take it personally."_

_Rick sighed again. "Yeah..." He said while sounding completely unsure of himself. "That's the thing. Judith was never a kid." Rick looked down and Daryl could see that sadness in his eyes; the guilt. He knew it all too well. "Guess I realised that too late. Not until—" Rick stopped himself, rubbing at his mouth with his hands like he was trying to erase what he was thinking. _

_Daryl stared from Rick to Judith. "Until Carol," he said, acknowledging the thought Rick was having. _

"_Yeah," Rick sighed with a nod of his head. He shuffled his feet and looked right at Daryl who had the same look in his eyes. "Until Carol."_

_Daryl put a consoling hand on Rick's shoulder. "It don't mean nothin'. Judith's a good kid. She ain't Shane or nothin'."_

_Rick stared at the pavement and adjusted his footing again. Daryl's hand slid from his shoulder. Then Rick took a step closer to Daryl and looked up with his tortured blue eyes. "For her ninth birthday, I gave her a gun." He paused. "A _gun_, Daryl. A gun."_

_Daryl nodded his head slowly. "I know," he mumbled. _

_Rick laughed bitterly; darkly. "What can I expect? What kind of man does that make me—what kind of _father_... does that make me?" _

_Daryl looked at him through squinted eyes, biting his lower lip so it became an even thinner line. Rick didn't wait for him to say anything, but Daryl spoke, regardless. "You know, that gun you gave her: it was yours. You gave it to her 'cause you were proud of her. And b'cause she was ready."_

_Rick's lips curled into a genuine smile. "That was the first gun I ever got. It was a gift... For becoming an official officer."_

_Daryl nodded and got right near Rick's hanging head. "You did right by that little girl, Rick. Ain't nothin' wrong with Lil' Asskicker."_

_Rick raised his head, and laughed. "...'Little Asskicker'," he repeated to himself with a grin._

_Daryl pressed his lips together, stepping back. He gave him a weak smile and a reassuring nod, then strode back over towards Beth, leaving Rick to himself to watch over Judith as she watched over the group._

Sleepy... Oh so very sleepy. And bored. I wanted to lean against the guard tower or the tank, but I knew standing would keep me awake. I just needed to keep my hands busy, so I pulled the green rag from my back pocket and started wiping my weapons clean. Some of the arrows weren't yanked from the skulls right, so there were fragments of brain hanging from them, which sickened me so much on an empty stomach that I woke up a bit. Then I held my bow with an arrow resting between my fingers and stared out into the empty field.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, so I added a new POV in this chapter, because it seemed necessary. And to be clear, I love Rick—he is awesome, but because Judith is his daughter, she won't automatically love him. Just look at Rick and Carl's relationship, back in the day...

Oh, and review.


	7. Ice

Chapter 7:

Ice

I was like three seconds away from falling asleep on watch when a walker slouched through the gates all dead and slow. But this one was a tad more disturbing seeing his clothes were almost completely gone. And this time I knew he was a _he_ because like I said, his clothes were almost completely gone. Things were visible.

Then I killed it.

Hell, even with no sleep my aim was good, regardless of the fact that it took me three arrows. I'd retrieve them later.

I sighed heavily and over dramatically when the sleep thing came to mind. Then Beth came and sat on the floor next to me, leaning against the tank while holding onto her big belly. "You look tired," she said sounding tired herself.

"That's because I am," I mumbled still staring out into the field. I could practically feel her concerned eyes boring into the back of my head.

She sat there behind me quietly, shaded by the tank and I appreciated the company. But then she started speaking. "I can take over on watch, if you want."

I sneered at her over my shoulder before looking back ahead. "You most certainly will not."

I could hear the insult in her angelic tone. "Well... why not?"

"Because, senile pregnant lady, I value my life, and I don't want Daryl to end it."

Beth gave a small giggle. "I'm not useless just because I'm pregnant, Judy."

"You're right, you're useless regardless," I said—sleep deprivation makes everyone cranky. I looked over my shoulder to see he smiling weakly at me and I felt guilty. "Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you let me keep watch so you can get some sleep."

I glared ahead. "Daryl wouldn't."

"Yeah, he would." I could tell she was grinning.

I snorted at her naivety. "You underestimate the tediousness of his love for you. And future baby."

I thought the conversation was dropped until I heard her get up and walk towards me. "Alright. Go," she ordered. It's so cute when Beth tries to act like she has authority. Almost endearing.

I frowned at Beth, showing how ridiculous I thought she was. "Daryl!" I called, looking behind us for him.

"Yup?" He walked towards with squinting eyes.

I turned to him, lowering my bow down completely. "Your wife is bugging me," I complained, then narrowed my eyes to a glare. "Fix it."

Then I looked back to the field.

"C'mon," Daryl said after a pause. Then I felt his hand curl around my elbow.

I whipped my head around. "What?"

"Come on," he repeated, still tugging at my elbow.

I looked towards the field that was calling to me – almost literally, I was that tired. "But I'm on watch."

Daryl pulled me towards the middle of the group where everyone was just mulling around. Tara and Abraham were leaning against the building C block in the sun. He shoved me a little towards them and I staggered. "Sit. Preserve your energy. Sleep when we get inside."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly—" I stopped myself. What was I doing? "Okay," I said, then collapsed against the wall in between Tara and Abraham.

Then I rested my head against Tara's shoulder and I was out.

I felt a rough tugging at my jacket that I could tell was intended to be gentle. When I opened my eyes I saw Dad's squinting blue eyes looking into mine as he crouched in front of me. "Hm. You're a sore sight for eyes," I said rudely. Dad cracked a smile, then stood up with a hand extended for me. When he noticed my hesitance, he rolled his eyes and said "Come on." I couldn't help the fact that I mimicked the same eye roll when I took his hand and stood. When I saw the sun still setting, I realised I hadn't gotten more than ten, maybe twenty minutes' sleep. I knew that would kick in soon.

Tara and Abraham were standing near Beth and the others by the rusty door at the opposite end of the building. Seemed like they were just waiting for me and Dad.

He glanced at me as we walked at a quick pace towards them. "You weren't supposed to fall asleep."

I felt a pang of guilt and irritation in the bottom of my gut, but I shrugged the feeling off. "Couldn't resist."

Dad smiled. We didn't have time to say anything more seeing we reached the group. I thought Dad would start giving off orders, but Carl did instead.

"It's been seventeen years, but from the looks of things, this place hasn't been touched." He looked at all of us one by one, planning in his head. "Daryl; you and dad will take lead with Abraham and Tara covering you from behind. Beth, you stay in the middle, close to Daryl, but next to Michonne." He glanced over at me. "Judith and I will cover the back."

I frowned. "Us at the back? Why?"

He ignored me. "Let's go," he said and Daryl headed up the caged stairs, yanked open the door and raised his crossbow with Dad by his side. Beth next with Michonne and her sword raised, then Tara and Abraham.

As we walked up the stairs and readied our weapons; me with my machete this time and Carl with his gladuis, I frowned at him. I would have had my bow raised, but I wasn't at the back—all I could kill would be the forgotten or the ones that come by surprise. None of which involved my beloved bow. The frown didn't leave my face as we reached the last step. "Why did you put me at the back, brother?" I said darkly below a whisper so others, as well as possible walkers, couldn't hear.

"Two reasons," he whispered back, "You don't know the area. And you're still sleep deprived."

"So you leave the leads to two fifty-year-old men with slow reactive skills and emotional baggage connected to the area we are now searching."

Carl gave me a dark look and when I glanced his way, all I could see in the darkness was the slight shine of his scar from the sunlight outside. "Just... Don't be an asshole," he mumbled. "And keep an eye out—these tunnels can be..." He trailed off and raised his sword. Then I kept my mouth shut.

The tunnels were wider than I thought, and long. The cement walls were hard to see in the darkness, but I was able to notice the cracks in the walls and certain noticeable stains, like faded arrows spray-painted on them. As we went further and further into the tunnels, turning corners meaning Daryl and Dad clearly still knew their way around here, we still heard no walkers. And they're loud, so we would have heard them coming. Even so, hanging at the back felt plain wrong. I felt... Impotent.

I had a new sympathy for men across the world.

We followed a backwards arrow and turned another corner, and then I saw a light. Not a metaphorical light; _real_ light from windows.

I looked over at Carl and for the first time in a long time I saw hope in his eyes. Hope and sadness. It hurt to look at him and his boyish face, so I stared ahead and followed the group into the open space.

It was bigger than I imagined, and more pitiful. The way they described it made it seem like a fairytale with warmth and comfort—not a cold, practically empty space with old things scattered around. Things that were left behind, like water containers, guns and other weapons. There were even a few canned peaches, which was cool. Then I saw the open cage to the cell blocks. I knew that's where everyone in our family slept.

Carl closed the barred door behind us and I helped him move a large metal shelf in it's way to jam it closed.

Carl and I turned around and saw Daryl coming back from inside the cells along with Dad. He looked at Carl and gave him the nod that we were safe and Carl nodded back. Dad made that even more clear when he placed his machetes down on one of the metal tables.

Dad never disarmed himself. At least not willingly.

It was already obvious why. Because this was their home once; even though it was taken from them, destroying their own personal fortress of solitude, they still felt safe in it. Idiots. We were never safe. If I can figure that out, why can't they?

I kept a firm grip on Dally the machete, but lowered my hand to my thigh. Beth let go of her weapon; Carl too. Even Michonne slid away her sword. It came to the point where the only people who were carrying were me and Daryl.

"We camp here till morning. Then we discuss our options," Dad said.

Tara and Abraham looked at each other then sat down at one of the tables. I realised then that Tara had been quieter than usual since we got here, and I wondered why. There was this tortured look on her face as she stared down at her hands, like she couldn't bring herself to look anywhere else. I wasn't used to seeing Tara like that and I hated it. Of course, no one else seemed to notice since they were so interested in their old home.

Carl gave me a childish grin before walking over to the cell blocks eagerly leaving me to my lonesome. I looked around the room and noticed probably the most interesting thing I would find: food. I walked over to the abandoned shelves and reached for the canned foods that were left. I pulled over a cardboard box and started loading the twelve or so cans, then lifted the box onto the table in front of Tara and Abraham.

Then I kept looking for more valuables.

I walked around the room, but stopped when I came across a bench covered in an old grey sheet that was once white. On the sheet were many things; diapers. Baby formula. Untouched cans of baby food. A dummy. And a baby bottle.

I knew I was supposed to look down at that and feel something beautiful or cruel in my heart, but I didn't. What I felt was a pair of eyes watching me from behind, and when I looked around, I saw Beth looking at me with that kind but broken smile that I loved. Only it was ruined by the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. I blamed it on the pregnancy.

Hormones.

I gave her a small glare as I walked past her into the cell blocks. I knew that only the main members of the group stayed in these cells. So I knew that I would find things from their pasts and I dreaded that. It felt almost intrusive; like I didn't belong in here.

The place was a mess. There were things scattered everywhere but I could still tell whose 'room' I was in when I entered it. Beth's.

And the fact that she was standing in it was kind of a hint, as well.

For a pregnant girl, she could move fast. The room was of course really pretty and decorated. There weren't fairy lights hanging from the walls like I'd imagined for so many years, but there were other things; the strange gnome on the desk, the cute bed sheets with girly colours, as well as the collage of really old papers across the walls, with other little things on it. It was sweet and serene, like her room back in Washington, only a little more... Juvenal.

Then I saw the blatantly obvious sign that read: _This workplace has gone... day without an accident._ The changeable number currently read zero. Jesus, that's morbid.

Beth, sitting on the bed, looked up at me and smiled. "This was before I was introduced to your positivity," she said with a gesture towards the workday sign. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so I let it slide and walked onwards to the other cell blocks. Honestly, it was because her room was the warmest and most welcoming that it was the saddest to be in.

I noticed Daryl above me, hanging around the other cell blocks on the second floor. When he noticed me staring, I dropped my stare and just looked straight ahead. I turned to look into the next cell block. When I saw the stack of dusty comic books by the bed, I knew I was in Carl's 'room'. I walked over to them, secretly hoping they were Superman comics, or better yet; Batman.

But then I stood on something and felt glass break from underneath the toe of my boot. When I looked down I saw a picture frame covered completely in dust and crouched down to pick it up. I wiped away the dust with my sleeve and stared down at the photo.

Mom.

For the first time in my entire life, I saw a picture of my mother. She was beautiful. Heh. So obviously I was her daughter. I wiped away at the corners more and stared down at her eyes and warm smile. It was then that I realised how much I looked like her. The same cheekbones, same smile, same hair, only minus the irksome fringe that she had.

I noticed Dad and Carl, too, and saw them in a new way. For starters, dad looked clean and with much less hair on his face. And Carl... He looked so sweet and little. And scarless.

I could barely recognise him.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

The sound of dad's voice shocked me so much I almost dropped the photo that was clenched in my hands. Didn't realised until know that my knuckles had turned white from the grip. "Yeah..." I mumbled. "She looks like..." I trailed off.

Dad came closer to me and the photo. "She looks just like you. Only you have my eyes," he said with a smile. A sad one, but still a smile. I still couldn't feel it—that thing in my heart. The thing I felt back in Washington. But that smile...

"It must be hard," I said and Dad looked up from the frame into my eyes. "For you, I mean," I continued. "To see me every day when I look so much like her."

I could imagine how hard that would be, and I felt sorry for him. I knew he would hate the sympathy, so I hid it from my face. Another thing we had in common, I guess—we hated sympathy.

"No..." he said, almost confused by what I said. "It's a blessing." There was a long pause between us, but for once it wasn't an awkward one. But we didn't say anything more. Dad then extended his arm and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle and comforting squeeze. And then he left.

I stared down at the frame and then at my shoulder, letting my fingers flutter over it in memory of his touch. I felt confused and when I looked down at the picture in my grasp, that confusion grew.

I stared down at the old Dad; the dad I would never get to know. I looked into his eyes that weren't blue like ice, but were blue like a baby's blue. Then my reflection in the broken glass came through and I looked into my own eyes. Mine were blue, too.

Like ice.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Alright, I had more to write, but I liked the ending. So another chapter will most likely be posted soon. Review. I appreciate them.


	8. Hormones

Chapter 8:

Hormones

I already broke the frame rather rudely with my boot, so I took the picture out and tucked it away in the interior pocket in my jacket. Coincidentally, it was right over my heart. My, how corny of me.

I wasn't interested in looking into Dad's 'room', or Michonne's, because from what I heard she didn't really have one. Then again, I wasn't really interested in any of them. But I knew that upstairs had cells that weren't claimed by anyone. Up there was an empty cell I could sleep in without the knowledge that someone I knew had slept there before me.

The clanks of my feet against the metal stairs were loud and when I looked at where I was walking, I saw blood smeared across the steps. And to think my group thought they were safe in here. The grip on my machete tightened at that thought, and I wasn't the only one thinking that way.

Daryl watched me climb the stairs from against one of the closed cell doors with his crossbow lowered, but still firmly in his hands.

I looked at him with a raised brow. "What, aren't you curious like the others?" I asked and leaned against the railing opposite him with my machete swinging by my leg, still wrapped in my fingers.

Daryl adjusted his footing and shook his head. "More curious about you."

My brow raised again and I looked at him with an innocent smile. "Me?"

He gave me a look to tell me to lose the sarcastic attitude, so I did. My blank expression was back and I asked him why.

He looked back at his feet and shrugged, mumbling a quiet 'I dunno'.

I rolled my eyes and sneered. "Oh, don't give me the shrug." I was too tired to tolerate his tedious Daryl-ness.

He just looked at me. "You won't remember it, but this still was your first home. You're safe here." Wow. That's like the most words he's ever said in a sentence before.

"This is coming from the one still holding his crossbow."

He nodded. "Pregnant wife. S'your excuse?" He mumbled.

I smirked. "If I said I had the same excuse, that would totally freak you out, right?"

"Stop," he muttered with a small smile and I grinned.

I shrugged and looked down at Dally. "I just don't think it's wise to let our guards down."

Daryl looked at me with squinting, blinking eyes. "This's our home. We're safe here."

I snorted. "This was your home _sixteen _years ago. And it was overrun by one man and one piss-poor army," then I sneered. "You really call that safe?"

"Best watch your mouth, Sweetheart," he warned, standing upright. Looks like I hit a nerve.

I raised my free hand in a surrender and forced a 'sorry' from my lips, but couldn't remove the smirk. I could tell Daryl calmed down when his shoulders relaxed and his narrow gaze softened, but only a little.

Then he swung his arm and pointed to something behind me in that false gentleman way he did. "Turn around," he said clearly. I narrowed my icy eyes at him first, then I looked.

Next to me was a metal table with a white plastic basket on it. I didn't give any thought to it before, but then I saw what it was.

I looked down into the basket and reached for the blanket inside it. It was old. And fluffy with little yellow ducks all over it.

I brought the warmth to my nose and sniffed it—it smelled sweet, like Beth, but with a musk to it, like Daryl. I loved that smell. It was familiar to me.

And I smiled.

Then I felt Daryl's breath on the back of my neck and could smell his sweat. He reached in front of me and raised the basket on it's side. It read _Lil' Asskicker_ in black marker.

Then I felt what I couldn't before. That little lump in my throat and the ache in my heart, followed by an absolute warmth.

Daryl balanced the basket – my basket – back on the table. "This ain't just our home," he said then paused like he was thinking of something else to say. "It's yours too. Always will be." I could almost feel him smile. "Lil' Asskicker."

Then I felt my eyes get all watery, but I could totally blame that on sleep deprivation and not mushy-gushy child emotions. I waved my hand in the air, dismissing both his mushiness and my own. "You're just hormonal," I said more croakily than I'm proud to admit.

Daryl snorted. "The father don't get hormonal. Just the mother."

"Then you have no excuse," I said, and that was all I could get out before being overwhelmed with emotions. Ugh. How annoying.

I walked away towards the other cell blocks on this floor and went for the emptiest one. I allowed myself two tears to fall before brushing them off and lying down.

I didn't realise I had fallen asleep with the blanket still in my hand until I woke up. But to be fair, I had Dally the machete in the other, so it all balanced out.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Okay, so because this was a really short chapter, I'm loading another one along with it, and I think you'll really appreciate the next one. It ends on an interesting note... Review. Few fans, sure, but good ones. I appreciate it.


	9. Duckies

Chapter 9:

Duckies

I woke up in a bed with a blanket laid on top of me. In my hand's grasp was the blanket with little duckies on it. In my sleep I had kicked my beloved machete down to the foot of the bed.

Oh my god.

Had I just betrayed – cheated on – my dear Dally with a baby's blanket? What's worse is that I'm surprisingly okay with it. Then my other mentalities kicked in and I sat up and looked outside the windows out of the cell. I caught a glimpse of the light and I could vaguely tell that the sun was rising. Good. That meant I had about 11 hours of sleep under my belt, but I was worried that nobody was smart enough to take watch. I worried that they were still convinced they were safe in this prison just because they were, once upon a time.

I knew that Carl would be reliable, because that's just who he was: he was less trusting of a place and of people than I was. Daryl still seemed alert, which was good. Abraham had no attachments to this place, so I could trust his judgement, as well as my own. And Tara – oh, right. Tara. Normally I would trust her judgement in this place, but something seemed off with her, but in a different way than the others. And that concerned me.

Speaking of Tara.

When I swung my legs over the bed to the floor, they almost landed on her stomach, but thanks to the reflexes of a teenager, I didn't. Tara remained sound asleep as I jumped over her with my machete and blanket on me. Then I went to leave the cell, but as I stood at the door, I knew I couldn't just leave her there. Tara was a heavy sleeper—I knew that much. Hell, me standing on her probably wouldn't have done a thing. But picking her up seemed a tad risky, so I used the grey blanket I'm assuming she put over me, over her to keep her warm. I managed to get an extra pillow under her head, then left her there.

I heard a silent clacking of cutlery from the communal area meaning I wasn't the only one that was up. And just when I was about to rush down the stairs, I realised I was still holding the ducky blanket that smelled of Beth and Daryl and me as a baby. I was gonna drop it back in the basket, but when I went to, I just...couldn't.

I rolled my eyes and sneered. "C'mon. Don't be such a pussy."

But even so, I couldn't bring myself to let it go, so I went with the second option and yanked my hunter's knife from my boot. Then I started to cut off a small handkerchief sized piece from it and tucked it deep inside my back pocket, folded the rest of the blanket and place it back in the basket so it looked untouched.

Nobody would ever know.

I shoved my knife back into my boot, picked up my machete and trotted down the metal stairs, reluctantly making noise. I adverted my eyes as I walked past the open cell blocks for their privacy and went into the communal area where I saw Daryl, Beth and Carl.

They all looked happy and well-rested, so of course I was pissed.

"Nobody was keeping watch?" I growled, my grip onto Dally tightening.

Beth looked up at me with a smile, Daryl just continued to stare into his bowl and Carl snorted in derision.

The I heard footsteps from behind me and I knew it was Dad. He walked past me with a hand resting on his belt right above one of his machetes, turned and looked at me with a blank expression on his face. Then he did the stand adjustment and gave me that brooding look of his. "You really think I wouldn't have someone keep watch?"

Yes.

"No," I said blankly after too long a pause, and he unfortunately noticed.

Dad gave me a look before swinging a leg over the seat across from Carl and Beth. Of course, Beth was too (for lack of a better word) fat to fit on inside of the seats, so she faced outwards in front of Daryl. I noticed him holding her hand underneath the table and smirked to myself, but I said nothing.

"Thanks to the peaches left behind, we have breakfast," Dad said to me and I just nodded. Saying something snarky after the incident with the photo just didn't feel right. Especially with the photo still in my pocket. In memory of that photo, I wanted to look at mom again. And Carl.

So I sat. I remained quiet and poured half a can of peaches into a dusty bowl because everyone else was and picked up a spoon. I cannot express in words how amazing these peaches were. They were even better than fresh peaches from Washington! These ones seemed to be covered in some kind of liquid heaven.

"So there really is a god," I muttered, before I realised I had said it out loud. Beth giggled and I cracked a smile. Then I went back to shutting up and eating.

Daryl picked up the can and poured the rest into my bowl. "Eat up," he ordered. "There's more where that came from," he grunted.

"I only found twelve cans."

Beth swallowed a peach slice before speaking. "You didn't check the bottom cabinets. We had stuff locked away for emergencies," she said with that endearing smile full of hope. Fluffy yellow duckies came to mind.

I stared down at the peaches and then at the people around me. When things are too good to be true, they are.

"Where do we go from here, Rick?" I asked with a narrowed gaze. He was smiling until I brought that up. "I mean... Are we gonna stay here? Or is this just one of the many stops while you think up a plan?"

"Judith," Carl said with a warning tone.

I dropped my spoon back into my bowl. "Look, I'm sorry to be the major buzz kill, but I think we still need to keep a level head—"

"Judith," Carl hissed.

"No," I interrupted, "I know this was a home to you once, but if you haven't noticed, this place is kind of a shit-hole. You want to build a community? That's great, but clearly this is not the place."

Carl slammed his fist down against the table and stood up. "Stop." He glared down at me, and I saw that his eyes really were just like mine; icy.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, don't give me the stand of intimidation, Carl because it's ridiculous," I sneered, even though I knew belittling him probably wasn't the answer to our problems. Then I laughed bitterly. "God, you are just as blind towards this place as everyone else."

Then Dad stood up, keeping his hands against the table. "Judith, stop!" Dad growled, "Carl, sit down!"

Carl glared at me from underneath his sweaty mat of brown hair, but reluctantly sat by Dad's request. I scoffed at his pathetic obedience.

I didn't notice that Beth and Daryl were surprisingly quiet through all of this.

"Now," Dad began with a calmer tone, "Judith is right; we cannot afford to get attached to this place. We have to keep a level head." He gave Carl a glaring look of disappointment, then turned to give the same look to me. "But I think for now, we should just enjoy this." Dad paused and looked between me and Carl before continuing his leader speech. "Later today, Daryl, Michonne and I will talk about a game plan. Judith, I think you should be there. That way we can... Have a 'level head'," he said with one last disappointing glance at me.

Carl cocked his head to look at dad. "I want to be there, too."

I rolled my eyes once more, picked up my bowl, swung my legs over from behind the table and walked towards the sink near the old baby changing area. "Blah, blah, woof, woof," I muttered to myself.

What does it mean when your own personal hero becomes a placid fool?

Never in my life had I been allowed to have my say—or at least had my ideas taken seriously. But Carl always trusted my plans, we just never did them and that was flawed. Dad trained me to think about the people; Daryl trained me to think about survival; Carol trained me not to be weak; Beth trained me—well, she never really had much to teach me, but she was there, I guess. Abraham's the one who taught me about every military technique in the book to the point where he asked me to shut up about it and Carl's the one who taught me to trust my instincts.

I was the perfect soldier.

...But my ideas were always too radical.

So when Dad told me that would would be there during the game plan talk, I needed to think up the perfect idea, and then nothing came to mind. This was the part where I would ask Carl, but that was clearly not an option.

Whenever I needed to think, I killed walkers. When someone pissed me off, I killed walkers. When I had a moral dilemma, I killed walkers. Say what you want about the apocalypse, but it sure as hell helped me.

I took my bow and quiver full of arrows and swung them over my shoulder then headed for the other door up the stairs from the communal area. It seemed a lot safer than the tunnels. But when I opened the door, Daryl came up behind me and closed it. "The hell do you think you're doing?"

I kept my hand on the handle of the door. I pulled my eyes away from his dirty hand pressed against the door up to his eyes. I noticed that his were a grey-blue—they looked tortured, but also sad, like an abused puppy.

I kept cool when I stared at him. "We should keep the perimeter clear. Especially if we need to make a quick escape," I said. It was all true, and the perfect excuse to leave.

"M'kay," he said then pressed his lips together in thought. "Then guess you won't mind me comin' with you," he said, and when Daryl says something like that, it's more of an order than a suggestion. But even so.

"I can handle it," I said, keeping my tone cool and avoiding glares and eye rolls.

Daryl placed his hand above mine on the door handle and yanked it open. "Course y'can," he said and left first.

I glared at the back of his sweaty head as I followed him, slamming the door shut tight behind me. Even leaving the door there, unguarded properly and without something to jam it closed on the other side made me uneasy.

"So why'd you come out here?" Daryl asked me as he looked around the courtyard with his crossbow raised. Clearly he knew there was little risk being out here, otherwise he would be doing his hunting crouch by now and not saying a word.

Hm.

He was in one of his talkative moods. It was rarer than his 'I'm pissed at Beth' moods, but not nearly as common as his 'I want to kill Judith' moods.

I kept my bow slung over my shoulder and held onto my machete as I stared at him narrowly from a fair distance away. "I told you; keeping the perimeter clear," I lied.

Daryl squinted at me over his shoulder, which seemed like a sneer. "Nah," he said, turning his head back to face front, "Don't gimme any of that bullshit." Definitely a sneer. I blocked my eyes from the rising sun in order to glare properly at the back of his head. "The prison's botherin' you and you came out here to blow off steam."

I rolled my eyes and strode towards him. "It's not the prison that's bothering me, it's you."

Daryl glanced at me with a squint of confusion. The fact that I knew his eye colour at all was astounding. "The hell I do?" He grunted.

I sighed. "No, not 'you' as in _you_. 'You' as in everyone." Hm. I would have made a great English teacher if they still existed.

Daryl didn't say anything, so I just continued. "You're all acting like this is the last stop: like you can pick up from where you left off here. But you can't."

Then my eyes widened at the sound of something from around the corner of the courtyard "Walker," I pointed out and started to walk hastily towards it. Maybe now I can get some of this irritation off me and think.

I raised my machete to strike, when one of Daryl's arrows beat me to it. He had waited for me to get there just to take the satisfaction away. That's this world's equivalent of a bitch in high school taking someone's boyfriend.

I let my machete drop to my side, but my grip on it tightened with anger and frustration. "That was my kill, Daryl," I growled through gritted teeth. "I needed that."

Then I saw the anger in Daryl's expression and I wondered if that was there before. He strode right on up to me and I could hear the heavy breathing coming from his nose. I got up real close to me and stared down darkly into my eyes and I just glared back. Daryl didn't scare me, or intimidate me, like he did others. Then he reached down to the walker and yanked out his arrow with a growl and looked back to me.

"Listen to me, little girl: either come up with a better suggestion, or keep your damn mouth shut!" He yelled angrily before heading back to the door we came from. "'Cause I'm tired of hearing you complain about this place."

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, or at least tell him to back off, but I didn't. I was just so pissed off, I couldn't talk. I just did the same heavy breathing through my nose before giving one loud yell of frustration and throwing my machete against the wall of the building.

Took about seven seconds for me to realise how stupid that was of me, and I rushed to pick it up, then prepared myself for whatever walkers I had drawn out.

None.

Dammit. I was hoping for at least one, maybe two. But then I smirked to myself when I saw another one emerge from behind the building's corner. Then another. That arrogant little smirk of mine disappeared when a herd of walkers came limping towards me.


	10. Try, or die

Chapter 10:

Try, or die

"Shit," I hissed to myself, because that was all I could think to say.

I stared in mild surprise as the walkers came closer and closer to me, and I counted up my odds. Only walkers didn't stop emerging from behind the building. I didn't have enough time to stick around and find out how many there were, so I ran.

I couldn't make it to the door in time, and it would be too risky to draw attention to it. "Oh shit!" I hissed in realisation of how unsafe that door was. I _knew_ I had the right to feel uneasy in this shit hole of a prison.

I sprinted past the door and looked at my surroundings when I reached the tank. Three seconds; that's how long I gave myself. I saw what was in the way of the door and I couldn't see how many walkers there were—that's what I had to find out. I looked past the tank at a path to places unknown to me, and the field. The empty field where I could run and think. So I ran.

And I didn't stop running. I sprinted as fast as my legs could take me past the gates, down the dirt path towards the middle of the field, away from the hole in the outer fence. Then I looked at what I had to overcome.

"Shit," I hissed once again between breaths, then groaned because this situation was beyond irksome. I could take down ten on my own just fine, but it's tiring. I can take down twenty, but that's really dangerous without backup. Hell, I could even do thirty when I was quiet and unnoticed.

But this was more than I could count.

A group of eighty or so walkers were limping towards me at their fastest pace and were getting closer to me. I tried to catch my breath as I raised my bow and arrow in wait and I had about thirty seconds before they were face to face with me.

Maybe more. Walkers were pretty damn slow these days and I had to wait from across a field. Without another second of thought or hesitation, I got to it, knowing how limited I was with 'ammo'. But the adrenalin had me alert and ready, so I didn't miss.

I took down the first twenty without missing a single head, and then I was out of arrows. Now they were ten seconds away from me; maybe ten meters. I pulled out my first two knives and paused for a single second for them to get closer. And I took down two. Then another for with my other knives. Then I started running towards them before I could talk myself out of it, but when I was in slashing distance of them, I began that self loathing thing. And to think: I thought I was the skipped generation of that Grimes gene.

I gripped at my machete with both hands, raised it above my head and sliced it down a walker's head. Then I pulled it over my shoulder and took down another. And as I stood there, slicing away at walker heads, I began thinking about how Dad would react when I walked back into that prison. He would be so angry... I grinned.

But then I tripped on a motionless walker on the ground and next thing I knew, a walker was on top of me. "_Oh, shit_," I hissed and for one moment of doubt I didn't know if I would ever get to see that look on dad's face. If I would ever see it again.

_Daryl slammed the door closed behind him and stalked down the few steps to the table. He threw his crossbow angrily on top of it and then kept walking, even though he knew Beth's eyes were on him. Daryl kept walking, not exactly knowing where he was going until he reached the end of the cell blocks. He growled quietly, trying to internally overcome his anger and gripped at the rails of the staircase in front of him. _

"_Daryl!" Beth's sweet voice hissed from behind him. He didn't look up. Just kept trying to calm himself down; trying not to become how he used to be. Like his brother. _

"_Daryl, what happened?" Beth asked and he felt her little hand on his arm. He yanked it away before he realised what he had done and turned around. _

_Beth was used to this. This was Daryl's way of coping—it wasn't perfect, but she understood it. After all, she loved him. Her father always told her how she would know when she was in love: it was when you love that person at their darkest. _

"_Sorry," Daryl muttered, his chin lowered as he stared into her naive blue eyes. _

"_It's okay," Beth said with a shrug. _

_Then Daryl walked right up to her and gently held her wrists in his big hands. "No it ain't," he mumbled gruffly. Beth looked up at him and smiled and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. His thin lips pressed against her soft, full ones for a long moment before pulling away. Then Beth's serene smile curled into a hopeful grin and she made a small giggle._

_Daryl smiled down at her, but even his most genuine smile seemed sad. That sadness would never go away._

_Beth's pulled her arms out of his grasp and slid her hand into his. She started pulling him along back towards the communal area. "Come on..." She said, "I know you can't be without your crossbow." _

_Daryl just nodded._

_Rick stood over one of the other tables with a map laid out across it. He didn't even look up from it when Daryl and Beth walked by. But he did speak. "Everything alright?" He asked Daryl. Clearly concerned about his comrade and his daughter. Rick looked up at Daryl and he looked back, then after a pause Daryl nodded. "Will be," he mumbled honestly and Daryl wondered if he would have to talk to Judith about it—if he would have to apologise, or if they would just leave it as is. Something Judith and Daryl had in common was their desire to simply move on from things._

"_Alright," Rick said uneasily then turned back down to the map. But then Rick looked up from the map at everyone else that was awake. Tara was technically awake but looked as dead as a walker next to Carl who sat while sharpening his weapons in a mood. Michonne was doing sit ups on the floor, out of the way and he could hear Abraham snoring from inside one of the cells._

_Rick looked down at his watch. "Daryl, you know what Judith is doing?" He asked, wanting to make a plan immediately to ease the tension between her and Carl. _

_Daryl gestured to the door. "Just calmin' down, I bet. "_

_Rick laughed quietly to himself with a look that read 'typical'. "Good," he said._

_And then they heard her scream._

I screamed—or yelled. Yelling sounds more ballsy. Then I did all that I could and kept slashing my machete all over the place while wriggling my body free from the the walker on top of me and I ran. But now I was tired, weak, out of knives and arrows and there were still about sixty walkers chasing me. So I kept running towards the outer fence, and then I started to feel trapped—what a shitty feeling.

Even though it totally wasn't the time, I started thinking about Daryl and I, and the last time we went hunting together. We got one white fluffy rabbit out of it, and now I felt like that rabbit.

The walkers were only footsteps away from me and I forced myself to keep running even though I was dying inside. When I hit the edge of the fence I started to run around the edge of the fence, incidentally going around the walkers. If I had an unbelievable amount of energy and speed like The Flash, then I could just keep doing this running thing, but my breath was shaking and my heartbeat starting thumping in my ears.

Then I saw my saviour; a car. It was old and rusted and waiting for me in the middle of the field. I stopped for a moment, almost collapsing from exhaustion and my own feet. Then I ran for it and I knew I wouldn't make it, so I turned around and took down the walkers closest to me.

I cut off the heads of two, but then the others started gaining on me. "One more," I told myself. That was a mistake. Because when I slashed at another head, my machete got caught in it, and I couldn't pull it out. At least not at this angle. So I forced myself to let it go just when I walker's hand grabbed at my shoulder and scratched through the leather.

"Oh, fuck off!" I yanked my arm away and ran to the car with at least a meter's distance between me and the other walkers, but with one right on me.

I jumped up into the open truck's boot, then onto the top of the car. Safety.

I then realised that I chose the wrong car and that I should have climbed up the one next to it because it didn't have an open boot for walkers to climb up so easily. Oh well.

Now I had a few seconds to catch my breath before they started climbing and I could see how many there really were. Yep, I was close. Close to thirty were surrounding the truck I was standing on with yet another thirty approaching more slowly far back near the tank. And I took a moment to smile with relief. The walkers had gone right past the door so at least I could live with the comfort that my family was safe.

And then I reached behind my back, which was ninjato-less. "Shit!" Who the hell took away my swords? I had a flash of anger towards Tara when I realised she probably slid them off of me when I was sleeping.

Damn her kindness.

I ignored my pounding heart and the panic I was feeling and reached for the only weapon I had left: a mere hunter's knife.

I yanked it from my boot and crouched my legs a little in the way Daryl taught me. I raised my arms in the way Abraham taught me when he said that one simple punch could save my life. And I gripped at the knife in my hand because, well, that was just common sense.

Then I prepared myself for the walkers as they climbed up the boot towards me. And even I wasn't arrogant enough to think I could take them all on.

_Daryl heard that scream and all the blood drained from his face. For a moment he felt numb, just like the time Beth was taken, and the time he discovered his dead brother. Or like the time he saw Hershel' executed in front of him. The time he saw Judith's empty carrier and thought she was gone forever. But he refused to ask himself the same question again; _maybe I could have done something_._

_Daryl lunged for his crossbow and ran towards the door with Rick right in front of him. The sad part was that he _could_ imagine what Rick was going through. Carl ran with the rest of them to the door holding whatever knife he was sharpening at the time. _

"_I thought you said she was just cooling off!" Rick growled as he made his way to the door, holding his machete. _

"_Killing walkers _is _her way of coolin' off," Daryl growled back._

"_Just go!" Carl shouted, but he was the first to get to the door and yanked it open. Carl ran outside as fast as he could, but when he saw what was right ahead, he skidded to a necessary halt. Rick and Daryl did the same. _

_Walkers. An entire horde of them were heading towards an abandoned car in the middle of the field with a certain girl on top of it with that horde surrounding her. _

"_Oh, god," Rick muttered to himself in a moment of panic before sprinting towards her. Carl looked at his beloved sister; his best friend as her tiny figure slashed away at walkers in the distance. One at a time. And then he ran._

_Daryl saw what they saw, but that just made him better. Daryl raised his weapon and ran after Rick, shooting the closest walkers as he did. The line to Lil Asskicker started near the tank giving them a hell of a time to get there._

"_JUDITH!" Carl cried, but she didn't see them or hear them. Rick shouted the same thing, but that just attracted the walkers to them._

_But Rick kept running with Carl right behind him. He ran past every walker there was, not killing a single one because all he could see was his daughter about to die. _

_Rick could't get any closer to Judith—none of them could. He felt himself being pushed further and further away. His daughter needed his help, and he couldn't do anything but kill, and watch Judith an entire field away as she did the same. _

_Tears clouded his vision along with spatters of blood, but the only thing that really got in Rick's way were the images flashing through his mind of what happened last time. _

_He slashed at walkers' heads again and again, and looked back up at Judith on the car, but she wasn't there. He saw a blur of long black hair and a leather jacket as she fell down and disappeared under the crowd of walkers, and the one name that came from Rick's lips was Lori's. _

I lost track of how many walkers I had taken down right after I wasted all my arrows. Now I had absolutely no idea.

Another walker came at me and I punched it with my gloved fist for more time, then I stabbed it in the head. I pushed it's weight forward towards the boot which temporarily took down two other walkers. Then I repeated the process with the one next to it. I don't know how long I did this for, but based on the weakness in my arms, I guessed awhile. This process at least started a pile up in the boot and I began to create a sort of wall of walkers, keeping them from me a little. I granted myself a second to rest and to smirk proudly at my wall of protection, until a walker pulled at my ankle, and I fell, making a yelp as my head smacked against the hot metal roof of the car. The walker started to pull me off it, but I managed to kick it away, and cut off the hand of whatever one was yanking at my hair, which really hurt.

I pulled myself up to my knees and gripped tighter at my knife, which was the only thing still keeping me alive at this point. I stabbed at the heads that surrounded me as they pathetically reached for my ankles. The other one only reached because it was disturbingly tall. I moved closer to the edge and kept on stabbing, feeling pretty good about myself, until my knife got stuck in a walker's head.

"No... no, no, no, no, no—come on!" That was about as logical as I got with my words as I kept trying to yank the knife out, while essentially holding up the weight of a body. I kept tugging at it, but it stayed put because of that stupid serrated edging, which had a tendency to get caught in things. I didn't worry about it until now, as I saw it fall to the floor firmly stuck in the head of a walker.

I stood up shakily, trying to calm myself down and think. That's what I told myself to do: think.

Ooh.

Just then, a plan about what we should do popped into my head and I smiled, but the sound of growling walkers ruined that little moment for me. And now I was out of weapons. Kicking them wouldn't work because I wasn't on the right level, and punching them wouldn't do anything. I kept my head down and looked around me.

I had killed off a decent amount, but the crowd that continued to surround me was about three bodies thick; there were maybe twenty surrounding me altogether and there were more coming. I knew if I waited any longer, I would be completely surrounded with absolutely no chance of escape, so I did what any sane person would do: I jumped.

I did an army roll to the floor that Abraham taught me over the surrounding wall of walkers and ran behind the truck to avoid the larger part of the horde. I looked across and saw my machete firmly planted in a walker's head, and only a small number of walkers in my way. I could make it. I mean it was either try or die, so... Ooh, that rhymed.

I bolted for it, dodging the walkers in my way and making it to my beloved machete and yanking it out. Aha! It was free and now I was safe. Well, I wasn't but at least I had convinced myself that I was.

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**Author's Notes:** Okay, so yes, this was a really long chapter that was more action than anything else, but it was necessary. You need to see how awesome Judith is, as well as stupid.


	11. Dad

Chapter 11:

Dad

_Carl didn't have his sword. All he had was a slightly blunt knife, but you'd be surprised how effective one person can be with the right motivation. He came close to dying when he was overcome by one walker too many, but was saved by Daryl's crossbow. _

"_GO!" Daryl shouted to Carl, and he did. Daryl chased after him and used his arrows as cover for Carl. Carl sprinted towards the car and was only half a field away when he saw no walkers surrounding the car, and no sister on top of it. _

_But Carl didn't think for a second that Judith was dead, so he looked for her, and his eyes locked with a newly surrounding crowd of walkers with a large blade swinging up into the air and back down. _

_Then Daryl ran past him with his crossbow raised. "Come on, let's go!" He yelled and Carl ran after him towards Judith. _

I knew that I was almost done. More walkers surrounded me, but I just couldn't fight anymore. But then I remembered the story Beth told me about Daryl when he went looking for a little girl and came back with a doll. Took an arrow, a concussion and apparently a bullet wound for some reason, and still came back.

"Don't be such I pussy," I muttered to myself between raspy breaths. So I kept on slashing at heads forcing myself not to give up, until I fell. My vision got blurry, but I still couldn't just give up. A walker fell on top of me like before, and I jammed the tip of the blade up it's chin through to the brain, then used every bit of strength I had left to push it off me. Another walker came at me and I clambered to get to my knees as another two walkers approached.

I stumbled on my feet, having to lean against my thighs for balance, and my vision started to blur. I swung my machete in front of me like an idiot, and forced myself to stand up just to kill at least two more.

But I didn't.

My machete fell from my hands to the ground beneath me and I glared into the dead eyes of the last walker in front of me. The thought that this would be the last set of eyes I would ever see in my life made me sick. And the thought that soon my eyes would look just as dead as theirs, made me even sicker.

I didn't want to die, but I was going to.

And then an arrow went right through it's dead eye. I watched in a daze as it fell to the floor and pressed both hands against my legs to stop from falling along with him. I looked up and saw Daryl and Carl running towards me from across the field with their weapons lowered.

Then I saw my Dad, and tears welled up in my eyes. I blinked and they fell down my filthy cheek. And I started limping towards them with a twisted ankle, stinging shoulder, covered in bruises, and what felt like a concussion. And I just kept limping towards my father – because apparently I didn't have it in me to kill one last walker, let alone stand up properly, but I did have it in me to limp all the way across the field.

As their little figures became bigger, I started to grin. It was supposed to be a smirk of pride at what I had done, but it was more of a genuine smile at the sight of my dad standing there waiting for me.

"Dad," I whispered at the hopes that he would hear me say that for the first time in a long time. I got closer and reached out my fingers for him with my smile widening.

And then he raised his weapon.

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**Author's Notes: **Alright, now I want actual feedback from you. Or at least heinous theories, or something! Come on guys, be cool.


	12. Epiphany

**Author's Notes: **Oh man, I love your responses-and keep them coming. It's entertaining. Truly; to those who reviewed. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 12:

Epiphany

I never thought this would happen: never thought Dad would raise his weapon on me—even if it was a huge misunderstanding. Still, he wasn't winning me over.

As I got closer to them, I wiped away the tears from my cheek like it never happened. I didn't want Rick to see them.

As I got closer, their faces came more clear, and Rick's was covered in more blood than any of theirs. Then they saw me properly, and Rick stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes and his weapon still raised.

I stopped only a meter from them on the dirt track because they were in front of me, and because I couldn't bring myself to walk up a hill. I glared at Rick and his machete. "You wanna get that thing out of my face?" I growled, coming off angrier than I actually was.

Instead of lowering it, he let it fall to the floor. He stared at me with wide eyes and tears falling from them, just like mine.

"Oh my god..." he croaked then before I could push him away, he wrapped his bloodied hand around my neck and pulled me against his chest with another arm wrapped around my back. Then he really did sob, into the nape of my neck. I couldn't handle my own weight so I just let his hug hold me up as my legs buckled. I fell to my knees and he fell along with me, and I didn't know what to do except try to catch my breath and avoid blacking out.

This was clearly an emotional moment for him, but I couldn't have felt more awkward. I would have uncomfortably patted him on the back, only I didn't have the strength to raise it. I rested my chin against his sweaty shoulder and concentrated on my blinking. "It's okay," I said quietly between breaths. "I'm okay." And when his sobbing continued, I smiled. "But I totally could have done it myself," I joked, but that only made him cry more.

When he pulled away, he moved his hand from my neck up to my cheek and stared at me with fear still in his eyes, even though we were safe, now.

I looked up to see Daryl pull out his red rag. He extended his arm and nudged Rick on the shoulder to get his attention. Dad took it from him, and the thanks was implied. He pressed it against my face and started wiping away the blood. I didn't know how much there was until he lifted it from my face, and I saw that it was almost dripping with blood.

Makes sense.

Now that I had had a long moments' rest, my natural thought process kicked in again. "Beth..." I muttered.

"What?"

I looked past Dad's shoulder towards Daryl. "The door—did you secure it?"

Carl frowned down at me and slowly shook his head. "We were kind of preoccupied..."

I gave him a look and cleared my throat. "Help me up," I ordered Rick, and he pulled me up by my hand. Daryl first swung his crossbow over his shoulder before reaching for me and placing my arm over his muscular shoulders, crouching slightly because of the height difference.

At an irksomely slow pace, we headed towards C block and I suddenly appreciated the safety of it.

Rick looked to his side. "Carl, go collect Judy's weapons—she shouldn't be without them. The more protection we have, the better." Carl didn't argue. He gave Dad the nod and looked at me next like he was giving me a silent apology. I mustered up a smile and he hurried to retrieve my weapons.

The door swung open before we even came close to it and Beth came rushing out, holding her pregnant stomach as she did.

"Beth," I breathed with a grin, letting go of Daryl's shoulder to give her a pat on the shoulder, but kind of just collapsed on her which she misconstrued as a hug and hugged me tightly back.

"Judith!" She sighed in relief as her nails dug into my back. Hugs with Pregnant Beth were always difficult, but it was harder now that I could barely stand.

"Okay, ow," I said and she let go, and she blushed with a smile.

"Sorry," she breathed and I put all my weight on Dad who held me up more by my waist.

Then we went inside.

Tara ambushed me with a hug in the same way Beth did but without relief in her eyes; just fear. Abraham stood across the room and gave me a weak smile, and I could feel Michonne behind me, probably guarding the door. Thankfully.

As Tara held me, I patted her on the back until her grip on me loosened and she helped me to the table. Tara's arm hung over my shoulder in a protective kind of way. "Are you okay?"

I frowned at her with a curious smile. I had never seen her so concerned and serious until now. It was weird. I raised a brow. "Are you?"

I think it was then that Tara noticed her out of character behaviour and she let her arm drop from across my shoulders. She gave me an unconvincing smile and said "Totally," then punched me on the arm and I gave her a smirk in return.

"But really," Dad said as he looked at me from across the table, Daryl right beside him, "Are. You. Okay?"

I grinned. "No." I grinned even wider when I looked at Daryl. "But I will be."

Beth gave me that hopeful smile as she sat down on my other side, taking my bloodied hand as she did. I was never really a fan of hand-holding because it made me feel constrained, so I gave her hand a gentle tap with my other and she just knew to let go. But that smile remained.

A silence among us began, and it was peaceful while we just enjoyed each others' company. I, of course, was the one to incidentally ruin it. "Oh!" I exclaimed in memory of my idea.

"What?" Dad asked warily.

"One good thing did come out of that," I began wryly, "I had an idea... An epiphany of sorts." I gestured towards the door for a moment. "You can thank the walkers for that," I said as a way to lighten the mood... In which, it did not.

"Well come on," Daryl grunted and I noticed he was still holding his crossbow. "Don't got all day."

I gave him a look then shook my head. "No—ugh-uh. Not until Carl's back."

Dad sighed quietly and rested his hand against his holster. "You won't need your weapons right now, Judith," he said slowly.

I nodded. "Oh, I know. Besides, I don't think I'd be able to lift my arm, regardless," I said but that sad part is I wasn't joking. Hell, my legs felt like that red gooey stuff I scavenged from a house, once. I believe it was called jelly.

I looked between Daryl and Dad; the leader and his righthand man. And then I continued. "But if I'm going to tell you my plan, I'm gonna want to get all the 'no way in hell's out of the way, and that includes Carl." Then I smiled. "Besides, he's less likely to kill me with Rick in the room." I saw Dad's jaw clench when I called him by his name instead of his title. Instinct.

Just then, we heard a bang on the door and Michonne yanked the door open with her sword raised, just incase. Carl came rushing through covered in dried up blood from before as well as sweat.

"Got 'em," Carl breathed tiredly as he spread the assortment of weapons in his hands across the table, as well as the map. "Got all of 'em," he said with a proud smile. I grinned at him gratefully and then down at my weapons. He even remembered my throwing knives.

"Okay," Dad sighed, placing both of his hands on his hip now, and he looked at me, as well as everyone else. "What's your plan, Judith?" He asked me with an uneasy tone.

"What plan?" Carl asked.

Tara stomped her foot on the floor which made me jump a little, and looked at me with wide eyes. "Oh, my god, just tell us."

My mouth slowly curled into a wry smile. "I think we should take over Terminus."

You would not believe how badly they reacted to that.


	13. Radical or stupid?

Chapter 13:

Radical or stupid?

When I suggested we take over Terminus, I thought there would be more yelling, but instead there was just silence, like they were still letting it sink in.

Strangely, Tara was the first to react. Her instinct was to get away from me even though her last instinct was to put her arm around me. She stood up from the table and stared down at me darkly. "Are you trying to be funny?"

I frowned. "Um... No?"

Carl just stared at me with a calculating look. "You're not joking..."

I stared at him, looking as serious as I felt towards my plan. "Oh, I'm dead serious," I said bluntly.

"Then you're crazy," Beth said in a raised voice. Hearing her sweet voice all hyped up and unimpressed like that seemed strange.

"You think this is all a big game?" Daryl growled, his voice raised also with his crossbow in his hands.

"First off, lose the crossbow—it's unsettling," I ordered, then I glared at him accusingly. "And you're the one who told me to either come up with a plan, or to keep my mouth shut!" I relaxed my shoulders and shrugged. "I went for the former."

Dad gave Daryl a concerning look over his shoulder before looking back to me. "You're being foolish," he said with that disappointment in his voice, only this time I found it reasonable. "Now," he continued, "Let's the rest of us talk about what we can do."

I looked up at him, still seeming as serious as I felt. "Look, just hear me out—"

"NO!" Dad growled furiously, and everyone else went quiet. Even me. Dad didn't take his bulging eyes off me as he breathed heavily through his flaring nostrils. Then his voice quietened, and he spoke with small pauses between each word. "I will not listen to whatever stupid idea you have to say—not after your stupidity out there."

My mouth hung in shock. "'My stupidity'?" Just then, I understood the rage he felt only a moment ago and I pushed myself up from the table. "Okay, granted, it was my rage that drew them out, but I think I handled the situation pretty damned well, and not with much help, either."

I could see Dad losing his temper again, but mine was already lost, so I didn't care. "Walkers come at you, you come get help. End of story," he told me assertively with a wave of his hand.

I looked at him with my jaw still hung in surprise, letting what he just said sink in. "If I had tried to run to the door, all I would have done was draw attention to it!" I snapped through gritted teeth. "By doing so, I might not have made it away fast enough, walkers might have gotten in, and I would have put _everyone_ in danger as well as myself!" I glared at him. "I'd sooner die than put my family in danger," I hissed. Then I went back to the assertive voice, resembling a drill sergeant, a little. "Running to the field was the most logical course of action; it gave me time, space and a lot of escape room."

"It was foolish," Dad growled again with a smack of his hand against the table.

This would be the part where Dad and I would get into one of our classic arguments where we go around in circles, but I was too tired to do that and I wanted to get back to the practical stuff.

"Well my plan isn't," I said calmly.

"Hear her out," Carl said to my surprise. Both me and Dad looked at him with that surprise on our faces. Carl stared back at me with that stern face of his, then gave me the smallest of nods that the others probably didn't see. Then he looked to Dad. "If her plan sucks we can just tell her she's an asshole and move on."

I stared at him with a smile of mild confusion. "Thank you, dear brother."

So I looked to dad and I could see him contemplating how to handle this, and then I saw him let go of his anger towards me, much like I did with him. After a moment, he gave me a nod of his head. "Alright," he said. "Let's hear it."

I smiled at Dad, but a part of me still felt insulted by the walker conundrum. And to think I thought he'd be proud of me. Carl was.

Both he and I sat down slowly and uneasily, but I was grateful for the sake of my tired legs. And then I webbed my hands together like any super villain would before a telling of a plan, but then un-webbed them because I was still hot and sweaty, and I didn't want my hands to stick together form the blood.

"Alright, I have already made it clear that this place is not safe to stay in."

"Blatantly so. Go on," Tara said coldly, who was sitting next to me again.

"But Terminus could be perfect."

"Oh yeah?" Daryl asked as he paced back and forth while glaring down at me. "How?"

I ignored his fury and continued even though it sucked to see him like that with me. I didn't like disappointing Daryl.

"You've been there before and from what I heard, it was pretty well guarded." I said, "You mentioned there were places for gardens, crops, maybe even live stock." I looked across the table at Dad. "That means it's safe and secure."

"Yeah it is..." Dad said with a brooding look on his face. "So secure, we barely got out." He looked down at the table for a moment. "At least not all of us."

I heard Beth breath in deeply and I knew she was forcing back tears. Right. Maggie.

I ignored the guilt I felt from bringing up Terminus. "It's been sixteen years. For all we know, Terminus could be gone, or been taken over by someone else." I looked at them hopefully. "Maybe it really is a sanctuary this time," I said and I wanted to slap myself for sounding so naive and stupid.

Dad looked at me almost sympathetically.

I cleared my throat. "Look, the odds of Terminus still being there is unlikely; being run by the same people is even less so."

Daryl snorted loudly. I shot him a glare. "I'm not saying we go in there with our weapons raised, ready to take it by force."

Carl spoke up this time. "If Terminus was taken over by new people, then that means they're stronger; better. We would never be able to do it."

I shook my head. "I'm not saying we _should_ do it. Maybe they're good people."

Everyone – and I do mean everyone – looked at me like I was a five year old with hopes of seeing a unicorn. I never felt like more of an idiot.

I looked at everyone still with hopeful eyes. "We can't be the only good people in this world!" I whipped my head back to look at Dad. "You used to trust people... If you hadn't, none of us would be here." Dad said nothing and I turned to Daryl. "And you. Okay, when I was like eight, you told me something when we were hunting that I never forgot."

"Yeah? And what was tha'?" He asked doubtfully, still with the angry pacing.

I looked at him with less hope in my eyes than before. "You told me that there was a difference between dependence and trust. That I should depend on _no one_, but that someday, I would have to trust someone." Daryl stopped pacing, and I thought that maybe I had gotten through to him. The others, not so much.

But there was silence, so I kept on talking. "I think we should camp here for a little while and gather supplies; keep safe. Then I think a group of us should head towards the tracks and just... take a look," I said with a tone that said it was no big deal.

"Maggie died there," Beth said and I slowly turned to look at her. Her eyes weren't on the verge of tears like I had thought; they were just plain hopeless.

I nodded slowly and I felt a pang in my heart. "I know," I said, "And I'm sorry... If anything happened to Carl, I don't know what I'd do."

Actually I did.

"I know Maggie died there – and Glenn – but it was Hershel who died here. And T-Dog, and my mom, and a bunch of others." I said with a calm soothing voice as I looked into Beth's eyes. "We can't avoid places just because they hold bad memories for us," I told her, but then my eyes wandered to Tara, who also looked on the verge of tears when I said that. And when I mentioned the people who died here.

"It's still a stupid idea."

I smirked. "I prefer the term... Radical."

Carl looked at me and smirked back. "Judith, I love you, but you're an asshole," he said still with that smile, and that sentence just turned my smirk into a grin.

"Need I remind you, we were just attacked by walkers. That could easily happen again, and this place is pretty much unrepairable. Terminus could be a gold mine – or another death trap, but still." I said, trying to sound reasonable.

"Alright, you've told us your idea, now let's move on."

I sighed. "Fine." Then I shrugged. "But when you guys think more, and come up with no bright ideas, come find me," I said without a look of shame or rejection as I rose from my seat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a piss."

But I could see Tara staring down sadly into her hands and I couldn't just keep ignoring that. "Tara," I said and she looked up at me with her dark, sad eyes. "Come and... help me..." I said slowly. Not the best excuse to talk to her.

She stared up at me, confused. "You want me to help you pee?"

I was severely disappointed in my tactics. "...Yes..." I said slowly and everyone, including Tara, looked at me like I was crazy.

Fair enough.

After all, I did just suggest going to Terminus. Top that off with asking help to pee, and I can't blame them.

"Um... Okay," Tara said uneasily and followed me into the cell blocks. When we reached the last cell block and I knew we were out of ear shot of the others, I stopped her and leaned against the bars of one of the cells.

Tara continued to look at me with a confused frown. "Um... You don't really need help peeing, do you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I think I can manage on my own," I said in dismissal and looked straight into her doe eyes with concern in my own. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine."

Tara was always a sucky liar, and it was obvious when she felt bad, or angry, or guilty. I sighed. "Alright, I'll be blunt," I said impatiently. "Since we got here, you've been acting sad and guilt-ridden, which makes absolutely no sense seeing you've never been here before."

Tara just shrugged, like she was also shrugging off the conversation.

I cocked a brow, folding my arms stubbornly over my chest. "I think that also why I woke up with you by my side on the floor, asleep."

Tara's eyes shot up and looked into mine intensely. I didn't quite know why.

"I don't... Um—I don't want to talk about it."

I just kept staring her down, thinking that maybe if I gave her the teenager-glare-of-intimidation routine, she would talk.

She looked from me to the floor and back to me. "Stop it."

I just narrowed my eyes. I'm guessing the cool blue looked even icier, now.

Tara furrowed a brow and widened her doe eyes. "Seriously, stop!" She whispered, then sighed heavily. "Look, I get it—you care, but I don't want to talk about it. Not now, not ever."

I knew I had to respect her wishes, so I nodded, gave her a reluctant, "Okay."

Tara sighed in relief. "Thank you," she whispered and smiled at me. "Really," she said and placed a hand on my upper arm, "Thank you."

"Ow!" I hissed, instinctively flinching away from her grip and she let go. That really hurt.

Why did that hurt so much?

"Shit," I muttered to myself and looked at Tara who just stared right back with fear in beautiful doe eyes. Then I extended my arm and Tara gently but quickly pulled my jacket off my right shoulder and revealed three shallow scratch marks from one of those stupid walkers.

Oh great.

I'm dead.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, so a predictable storyline, but I like it, so... Review. I like reviews.


	14. Survival of the fittest

Chapter 14:

Survival of the fittest

Tara stared at me while I let my head fall against the cool metal of the bars. I know I should have been scared or angry, or something, but I was just annoyed. If I was gonna die, it wasn't gonna be by a tiny walker scratch.

"Oh my god, Judith..." Tara breathed, and I could already hear the mourning tone in her voice, like she was already imagining my death.

I yanked my arm away and strode off towards Carl's 'room'. "Come on," I said stiffly. I could tell Tara was watching me with shock as I didn't curl into a ball and cry, but I just wasn't... in the mood, I guess.

"Are you gonna get the others?" She asked me in a loud whisper.

"Nope," I said as I turned the corner into Carl's cell. She had rushed to the open door by the time I reached Carl's old pillow. "If I know my big brother, then there's a knife under here somewhere..." I fished out a knife and held it up in front of me and Tara by the tip of the blade, swinging it slightly. "Ah," I said with a flash of a grin before turning it back into my stern face. Then I strode past her towards the stairs. "Come on," I repeated, but Judith didn't follow me.

"Judith, we have to tell the others," she hissed and her concern for my safety was obvious. "Rick, at least." I stopped walking to the stairs, turned around and stood right in front of her.

"If Rick finds out, I may as well be dead," I hissed back, then looked towards the communal area where I knew he was. "...Feel free to tell him about this _after _it kills me," I said coldly, then cocked a brow. "Now, I don't know if I've waited too long, so I have to hurry and take care of this. If my plan doesn't work, then we can give them something to worry about." I said somewhat reasonably and Tara gave me a negative look in response.

"There's a reason we don't do your plans. Because they never work."

"That's because we never do my plans!" I turned back around towards the stairs again and rushed up them. "Now, are you gonna help me, or cry wolf to the group?" I asked somewhat rhetorically. I heard her hiss 'dammit' and then I heard rushing footsteps up the stairs.

I remembered seeing in my brief passing this morning a box of white bandages hanging out slightly. I think it was in the cell that used to be Carol's, so I went to it, and I was right. I pulled out the cardboard box from underneath the bed and saw an entire medical supply. It had what I needed. There were bandages and a bottle of alcohol which would make up for lack of antiseptic.

I could hear Tara's shaky breathing and I just knew she was pacing nervously.

"Sit down," I ordered her and she crouched down next to me. I turned and looked up at her and she gave me a weak smile that said 'I trust you no matter how stupid your plan is'.

How sweet.

Then I shoved my hand down the front of her pants, which caught her by surprise. Before she suggested I was already hallucinating and shit, I fished out her zippo lighter that I knew she kept.

I flicked it open and watched the dancing light in front of me, then I hovered Carl's knife over it. Tara's hand clapped around my wrist and I looked into her widening eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Praying to Jesus," I said sarcastically and Tara paused.

"...Really?" She asked.

"No," I sneered and looked back to the flame.

Tara dug her face into her hands. "I can't believe this is happening..."

I snorted up a laugh, and smirked. "I can't believe this hasn't happened sooner."

Then the knife was ready, so I flicked the zippo shut. "Okay," I said and started shrugging off my leather jacket completely. It dropped to the floor and I slowly started moving it towards my wound.

"Wait," Tara said, her hand clapping around my wrist again. "What exactly are you planning to do?" She asked and I saw her eyes full up with tears. She was afraid. And it was my fault. But I didn't have enough time to care about that.

"I'm not doing anything. _You_ are going to take this knife while it's still hot and slice at my skin where it's been scratched."

Her eyes got even more wide. "Are you insane?!" She hissed.

Then I smacked my free hand against the bed impatiently. It doesn't really have the same effect without noise. "No, I just don't want to die."

Well, that shut her up. She swallowed whatever lump was in her throat and took the knife, then hovered it over my skin.

I moved towards the edge of the bed and made a firm grip around the bed leg's pole. I wrapped my arm around it a little to keep it sturdy.

"Okay," Tara whispered shakily and began to move it towards my skin.

"Wait," I said suddenly. Was I afraid? Of course! My skin was about to be sawed off—luckily it was a serrated blade. I reached down for my belt and slid it free, then placed the worn leather in my mouth. I looked to Tara who looked back in fear and I gave her the nod.

"Alright," Tara said just as shakily as before and placed the hot blade to my pale, sweat soaked skin.

And then she started carving.

I never imagined a pain quite like it, before. I mean, over the years, I'd been beaten up, attacked by walkers... I've been shot twice (technically), had multiple bones break as well as multiple muscles pulled. But this was way worse.

The belt in my mouth helped as I clamped down on it. I knew screaming would alert my family, but at that point I didn't really care. A tormenting whimper came out as I squeezed my eyes shut. I opened my eyes and glared at the wall, and my whimper became a dark growl. My hand curled even tighter around the metal and it took every bit of me not to move it.

"Almost there," I heard Tara say. At least I think that's what she said, but it was a little hard to hear over my pumping heartbeat. I thought I might pass out from the pain. Honestly, I hoped I would, but I didn't.

Tara didn't say anything else, she just wanted to get it done. Probably as much as I did. And then it was over.

"It's done," Tara said twice, and her breath wasn't as shaky as before. I heard the clacking of Carl's knife against the concrete floor and I let my hand drop from the pole as well as the belt from my mouth. I noticed it had my teeth marks dented in it.

"Don't look," Tara said to me, so I knew it was ugly. I was curious to see what it looked like, but I heard stories about how when people saw their wounds, it could hurt even more. I could pass out.

"Here," I breathed and reached for the bottle of vodka, which was written on the bottle. Faded, but readable. She took it quickly from my shaking hand as well as the bandages from the bed. Then another moment of panic came to me. "Oh man, this is gonna hurt like a bitch, isn't it?" I asked between breaths. When drips of sweat seeped into my wound, my question was pretty much answered by a muted yelp.

Tara ignored me and opened the bottle. "Okay," she said. "On three."

"Okay," I sighed, then gripped onto the pole again.

Tara took a deep breath. "One... Two—" Tara poured the vile liquid on my wound and I clamped my teeth against my other shoulder to stop from screaming. The last pain was a burning, searing pain that thudded, sort of. This was a stinging, white hot pain that went away after a few seconds.

"Okay, I'm done!" Tara said and closed the bottle, then threw it onto the bed. She raised her hands defensively, like I would attack her. Instead I just glared at her through sweat and tears.

"You said the count of three!" I growled.

"I—I'm sorry, I panicked!" She said defensively, and I just forced myself to breath through the blinding pain. I smacked my fist against the bed again and glared at her. I would be grateful later. "Just get the bandages," I growled and she did.

Tara pulled me up from under the arms and sat me on the bed, and started unrolling the bandage. "Okay, okay, okay..." She said soothingly, and I didn't know whose benefit it was for.

She started wrapping the bandages around my wound that was thudding with pain. I don't know how many times she wrapped it around, but it was enough times not to see my blood seeping through.

Then Tara, who was sitting on her knees, sighed in relief and let her hands drop to her legs. She forced a smile on her face. "Okay, you're done. You're safe."

It was hard to hear what she was saying since I was so distracted but I still knew to say the simple word 'no'.

"What?"

"We don't know that I'm in the clear," I breathed. And I pretended the pain wasn't there while I told her the plan. I looked down at Tara to see the blood drained from her face, covered in sweat. She had sunken eyes, but the fear was gone. She ignored the fear she felt for doing this like I had ignored the guilt I felt for making her do this.

Even so, I reached for her hands, holding them in mine. Both of them were covered in my blood. "So here's what I need you to do," I began, "I need you to sneak one of the locks from Rick's bag and bring it to me. Then you are going to lock me in here for the night and tell everyone that I was too tired to go back downstairs." Even through the pain, I coughed up a laugh. "They'll think you're lying and that I'm just too embarrassed by my failed plan, and they will leave me alone."

Tara slowly nodded along.

Then I shook her hands a little more than I intended. "_You do not tell anyone_... Okay?"

Tara's eyes started to go red and teary. "But Rick..."

"Especially not Rick. I don't need to worry them. It serves no purpose, and telling them won't do any good, unless someone disturbs me."

Tara forced back the tears, put on a brave face and nodded in agreement. "Okay." But before she got up to leave, she stared down at me in my weak state. "But I'm staying with you... In here."

I just stared back up at her and kept quiet for a long moment, before asking "Why?"

Tara stared down at her bloodied hands then back up at me. "Because no one should have to go through this alone. Not even someone as fearless as you."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Okay, so this chapter was a tad... bad, and not well written, but still. The next few chapters are gonna be a little lame and prolonged, but you'll live. Eventually the interesting stuff will happen and IN MY DEFENSE: the writers of the walking dead wasted two ENTIRE episodes on the governor's tedious journey. So you'll forgive me if this journey becomes a tad dull for a chapter or two.

Oh, and review more, guys. Not that hard. Then again, Lexie-king's reviews make this all worth it.


	15. Protector

Chapter 15:

Protector

_Beth was quiet by nature, and she felt she didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to group decisions. But she also didn't want to have a say. So she just listened. _

"_You can't seriously be considerin' going to Terminus, can you?" Rick asked his son with his head tilted. _

_Carl looked to Michonne who slowly shook her head, then looked to Rick. "It's not like our options are vast, Dad."_

_Rick just stared. "So you choose Terminus?" He asked with a raised brow. "After Maggie? And Glenn?"_

_Carl shook his head and scoffed. "But it's okay to come back here?" He raised his own brow. "After mom? And Hershel?" _

_Beth looked down at the table. She smiled in amusement when Carl used Rick's words against him, but it still hurt. Just the mere mentioning of her father's name made her want to cry. But the mentioning of Maggie's name made her want to kill. A small part of her wanted to go to Terminus just to kill the people that killed her sister. Of course, even mentioning that to Daryl would be bad._

_They had to be smart._

"_There's just no way," Daryl said quietly from behind Beth as she sat at the table. His hand rested on her shoulder, and even the smallest shows of affection made a shiver run up her spine like when they first got together. _

_Rick looked behind him to Daryl when he spoke, then back to Carl with a nod of agreement. "He's right, there's just no way."_

"_That's what we've been saying our entire lives. We _also_ said there was just no way that Washington would be destroyed, but we were wrong. Now look where we are," Carl said with a gesture around the room. "Back to square one."_

"_But with a baby on the way," Daryl pointed out, and Beth wondered whose side that was supporting. "What, you think Terminus is going to keep Beth alive? 'Cause they're jus' good citizens?"_

_Carl looked at him with a frown. "Maybe."_

_Rick laughed. "You can't be serious..."_

_Carl sighed. And for the first time, pretty much since they got there, Beth heard Michonne speak. "There's a reason we avoided just crossing the tracks."_

_Carl turned to look at Michonne with something that Beth couldn't see. Carl and Michonne had this strange connection that Beth had never seen before. It was a strong one, too. _

"_Yeah, because we're a bunch of pussies," Carl said, then looked to Beth and apologised. Beth looked at him, confused as she wondered why he would be apologising to Beth, of all people._

_Rick looked to Carl like he was a boy disrespecting his elders, but let it go because Carl is, well, old. "It's because of us 'pussies' that we're alive today." _

"_But by the skins of our asses," Abraham said from the other table. He stood up and walked towards the center of the group. "Maybe it's time we take a risk."_

_Daryl's hand dropped from Beth's shoulder and she suddenly felt cold and nervous. _

"_Hell no," Daryl said, adjusting the crossbow hanging from his shoulder. "We ain't takin' no risks. Not with my baby on the way." He started pacing again. "We gotta stay here, live as good we can with what we got."_

_Carl kicked himself off the wall he was leaning against and walked closer to Daryl and Rick. "I'm not saying we do what Judith said and take over Terminus." He shrugged. "Maybe we should just... look around. Investigate and see if it's a place worth trusting." _

_Abraham chuckled. "If people are trapped in shipping containers, we'll find out quick." _

_Beth looked up at him with mixed emotions. She asked herself how could he joke and laugh about Terminus? But she admired him for it. It took a lot of hopeful spirits to make people laugh, to make herself laugh – with Abraham, the battle of happiness seemed easier. _

"_That's true," Michonne said. Carl glanced back at her, "Yeah," he said, "And Michonne can tell an evil person from a mile away."_

_Rick put a halting hand in front of him. "Hold on, so we've gone from a sure no to a yes?"_

"_Hm," Carl said with a calculating expression. "More like a maybe."_

"_Y'all are crazy," Daryl growled, then stormed off into the cell blocks. Beth sighed, knowing how typical this was of him. It was near impossible to have a discussion with him. But at least it was nice to see his arm muscles flex as he walked off. It was a way to reap the benefits._

_When Daryl stormed off, he intended to head through the tunnels and find some place quiet, far from the group, but he didn't for two reasons. Because of his eternal desire to protect his unborn child, his wife and his family. And because Tara got in his way at the stairs._

_She looked at him with unusually wide eyes. _

_Daryl slowed down to a stop and stared into her wide eyes through his own squinting ones. "What?" He growled, even though he knew taking his anger out on others was wrong._

"_Nothing."_

_Daryl squinted down at her more. "Well, get outta my way, Girl" he growled with a wave of his hand, but Tara didn't move. Daryl didn't even want to go upstairs before, but now that seemed desirable. Being far away from people is what he needed, and he would still hear everybody from upstairs._

_He tried to get past her for the stairs, but her hands flew to the railings. _

_Daryl took a step back and made his glare seem more threatening. "The hell you think you're doing?"_

_Tara just stared up at him with an anxious look on her face. "Nothing," she repeated with the same uneasiness in her voice. Just then, Daryl noticed the blood drained from her face, the sweat dripping down from it, and he saw rubbed blood stains on her hands, like she had tried to hide it. Daryl knew walker blood, and that wasn't it._

"_Where's Judith?" His steel eyes looked up from her hands back to her eyes. Tara's eye twitched nervously. Daryl walked up closer to her, lowering his chin to look down at her. "Where is she?" _

_When Tara didn't say anything, Daryl shoved her arm out of his way and headed up the stairs with determination. _

"_She's on her period!" Tara blurted out, and instantly Daryl stopped. He reluctantly looked at her. Tara craned her neck to look at him. "Judith had her period and, um... needed my help," she stuttered shakily, her eyes still wide an unblinking. _

_The thought of Judith and... that stuff made him beyond uncomfortable. He didn't want to go upstairs anymore. _

_Tara didn't know she had sold him on that, and kept talking. "There's, like, blood everywhere."_

"_'Kay," Daryl interrupted, really not wanting to hear anymore. _

"_Really... It's a mess," Tara said. Had she blinked once? Daryl flinched nervously when she went on about it. "Seriously," she continued, "I mean... Her vagina is like—"_

_Daryl rushed back downstairs past her back towards the communal area with the desperate desire not to hear any more about Judith's vagina._

I was scared. I pride myself on not being scared – being fearless, like Tara said. But even in that state of mind, I was still able to distract myself from the pain in my arm, and the fear of death.

When I heard Daryl coming, I got even more scared, then anxious when Tara tried to stop him. The loud thumps of Daryl's boots against the metal steps made me make fists with the bedding in anticipation.

"Oh shit," I muttered to myself, but then the footsteps stopped and I stood up and walked to the door of the cell. I listened in, and then I heard the word 'period' and 'vagina' come up.

"_There's, like, blood everywhere," _I heard Tara say, and I banged my forehead quietly against the wall. Oh Tara. It couldn't even find the humor when Daryl grunted up a 'Kay' as a response to my false period.

"_Really... It's a mess," _Tara continued and I grimaced.

"What?" I hissed quietly to myself at Tara's terrible story. "Tara, stop talking!" I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me. Is this how people felt when watching horror movies? I'd heard stories about that over the years.

"_I mean... Her vagina is like—" _My eyes widened and I brought my clenched hand to my mouth in pure dread. But then I heard Daryl walking away and Tara walking back up the stairs.

I sighed in a mixture of relief and trauma. I just survived (maybe) an entire horde of walkers, and this was worse.

I walked over to the bed and smiled to myself. Before I knew what I was doing, I was laughing. Tara was standing in front of me in moments. I looked up at her with a tired grin and said "Vaginas?" I grimaced. "Really?"

Tara pressed her lips together tightly, then it cracked into a smile. "Oh, you know Daryl's practically allergic to that word."

I laughed. "Makes me wonder how Beth got pregnant to begin with." I wiped my sweaty nose with the back of my equally sweaty hand and stared up at her. "Did you get the locks?"

"Not yet," Tara said and when I gave her a dark look, she blurted out the words "I'll go get them" and trotted back down the stairs to the communal area.

And I was alone again. I had no distractions from the fear and pain, and I could feel my heart racing again. There was a mirror propped up on the small metal desk in front of me and I saw my reflection. I was still covered in walker blood, but there was a definitive line of clean skin and blood where my jacket kept me clean. It was interesting... Like a really bad tan line. I looked around the rest of the room and saw it was filled mostly with survival stuff like cans of food and bottles of water. There were the medical supplies as well as weapons, I bet. I reached for one of the bottles in a box under the desk and took a long swig.

I pulled out the rag from my back pocket only to realise it wasn't the rag, but the torn off blanket with little duckies on it. I wanted to smell it, but didn't want to get it dirty, so I put it aside and instead ripped off part of the bedding and used it to wipe the dirt off.

By the time Tara got back, I was clean.

She smiled when she saw me like that.


	16. Reminisce

Chapter 16:

Reminisce

Tara had never seen someone go through the fever before, so we didn't know how long we had to wait, but we stayed together in that cell until the sun went down. She locked the door behind her with another can of peaches and a spoon.

Hello dinner.

About an hour went by and the pain hadn't gotten any better, but it hadn't gotten worse. I knew it was swollen, but I think it had stopped bleeding. But the pain made me sweat more and more, and the fact that I had almost died out of sheer exhaustion earlier that day did not help matters.

Whenever I got a little faint, Tara would sit up all panicked at smack her hand against my forehead to check my temperature. I wanted to say that I knew it was just a fever from the wound and not from infection, but I couldn't know for sure. At least there were no hallucinations.

Tara ripped the can open with her knife and tossed it aside then spooned out the first peach. She grinned at the taste then handed it over to me with the spoon.

"Not hungry," I said, then wiped my forehead with my arm.

Tara stared at me blankly with the can of peaches still extended. "You should eat."

"And waste it coming back up?"

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Yes."

I was too tired to argue. "Okay," I said and took a bite. It tasted good, but I started feeling sick again. But I smiled at her and acted like I was fine. Out of nowhere, she checked my temperature again. The coolness of her hand actually did make me feel a little better. She turned over her hand, then pressed against my cheek. I stared up at her, and we both felt it had gone on a moment too long, and she leaned back.

"How's the pain?"

I sighed tiredly. "Painful."

She pulled the box of medical supplies closer to her and looked through it. I knew she found something when she grinned. Tara pulled out a small bottle of aspirin. I grinned back.

"Thank you, Carol," Tara said, then her smile disappeared. She knew I was watching her and coughed awkwardly.

I stared at her. "This was Carol's cell?"

Tara looked up nervously and shrugged. "I don't know..." The corner of her mouth quirked into a small, forced smile. "Just kinda assumed by the stuff," she said with a hand gesture.

"Right..." And she was right. Looking around the room, I could definitely tell it was Carol's room. It was simple and practical, but with a glass full of dead flowers on the sink. All the objects were survival serious: weapons, food, water and medicine.

Now that I knew it was Carol's room, it felt a little strange to be in it, but not enough to change rooms. Tara seemed okay with it, though. She ate quietly then glanced up at me.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I asked cooly.

Tara looked at me nervously. "I mean, now that you know it's Carol's room..." She trailed off, but eyes me like I was about to attack her or bolt, or something.

I raised a brow. "I said I'm fine."

"I know."

"So I'm fine."

"So I heard."

"Good."

"Good."

Then we went quiet. She looked down at the bottle of aspirin and I looked down at my boots, which were muddy and gross. "Here," she said, handing me two pills. "Wait," I looked at her just as I was about to down them. "They're expired."

I frowned. "Hm... So I should take four?"

"Yep."

So I took four. And then we just talked about whatever came to mind. Random shit like the academy and books I'd read, and at one point we got into a heated debate about who would win: spiderman or batman.

We settled on Superman being better than both combined.

My pain lessened and my fever went down around the time the sun did. We both suspected I was okay and in the clear, but we didn't say anything. Neither of us had seen anyone die from the fever, but we had both heard stories; I knew that by the fifth hour, I should either be dead, or at least close. My fever would be worse and hallucinations would have begun.

But I was okay.

Tara and I kept talking until it got dark, which was our cue to get to bed and I sure as hell could use the sleep. I gave a heavy breath. "So, you gonna go to your cell, or...?" I trailed off, because I didn't really know the other options.

Tara itched her nose and glanced between me, her shoes and the empty can of peaches. "No, I think I should stay here." She gave me a weak smile. "Just in case."

And I smiled back. "Okay," I said. "You take the bottom bunk, I'll take top." I told her, standing up. She helped me. "Besides," I grunted as I stood, "If I walker out on you, my fall will wake you," I joked, because I knew I was okay. We both did.

But my pain was still there.

As the night went on, we whispered to each other and I knew that Tara was slowly falling asleep. And even though I knew I was okay, I couldn't fall asleep. Just incase.

I considered taking more pills, but the throbbing hot pain in my arm kept me awake, so I didn't.

"Are you afraid?" Tara asked me, and by the sound of her croaky voice, I knew she was close to falling asleep.

"Of what?" I thought that was a stupid question on my behalf, but I was wrong.

"Beth's baby. You afraid?"

I cocked a brow. "Nah... Babies are just... tiny humans," I said with a small smile as I pushed myself up against the cool concrete wall.

"No, I mean," Tara said then took a long strange pause. "That what happened to your mom might... happen to Beth..."

It killed me to think about that. But there was no point fearing a mere possibility. "I try not to think about it," I told Tara.

"Well, you shouldn't be afraid." Tara told me.

I thudded my head against the wall. "If I were afraid, you telling me not to be afraid, would not make me not afraid."

"...What?"

I guess she was too tired to get that. "Just... got to sleep," I told her.

I thought she had until she started talking. "Do you remember when you were like...Thirteen."

"Yep."  
"...And you, Daryl, Beth and I went on a scavenge? Me and you split off from them because they were fighting in the hospital wing."

I sighed and nodded. "I remember."

I could tell Tara was grinning when she went on with the trip down memory lane. "We were looking for supplies in a closet in some room, then heard Beth and Daryl storming down the halls looking for us. They were so angry, so we instinctively closed the door and kept quiet."

I frowned. "'We'? No, I remember you freaking out and closing it on both of us. You locked us in."

"...Oh. Right," Tara said in realisation and she snorted. "Daryl started yelling at Beth again, saying she distracted him from us." Tara yawned. "And then... And then Beth totally snapped. Started yelling straight back."

I grinned. "I never heard her swear before that moment." I laughed. "She must've said every cuss I know."

I heard Tara shift on her back. "Then everything thing got real quiet... You and I thought maybe they left to look for us, and right when you and I were about to bang on the door, we heard..."

I grimaced. "Noises. Let's say we heard noises."

"Yeah, grunting noises."

We went quiet for a moment and I knew she had the same look of disturbed discomfort on her face as I did. And then we burst out laughing.

"I never could look at Beth the same, after that." I sighed tiredly. "In my mind, I kind of just assumed that Beth was a virgin." Then I grimaced at the thought of her with Daryl. A shiver ran down my spine. "As far as I'm concerned, she is and we got ourselves an immaculate conception."

"So she's the virgin Mary..."

"She sure as hell ain't Mary Magdalene."

I heard her yawn again and so I stopped talking. I knew she was asleep and I let her. When my eyes got heavy, I hit my head against the wall again to wake myself up. I needed a distraction.

So I hopped off the bed and looked around the room quietly. I thought about gathering all the supplies, but I knew that would be too much noise, but what I did find was a small torch and a worn copy of _The science of evil: empathy and the origins of cruelty._

Huh.

Well, if I didn't know this was Carol's room before, I sure as hell did now. But I had nothing else to do and I had to stay awake, so I leaned my ass against the desk, turned on the tiny light and opened it. When a picture fell out, I picked it up off the floor.

I held it up to the light and saw a crinkled photo of a little blonde girl, smiling. She was probably around eight, and the woman with short hair and baggy clothes next to her was Carol – I knew that much. I flipped the photo over and read what was written in pen.

_Sophia_.

Oh. A lump in my throat formed as I stared down at the photo. I knew Carol had a daughter and that it changed her. There were arguments about whether it was for the better or worse. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose a child. When you lose your partner, you're a widow. When you lose your parents, you're an orphan. Seems a little strange that there isn't a word for people who lose a child.

"I'm sorry," I whispered down to Carol and Sophia. I knew they couldn't hear me, but the words were true.

Looking over at Tara, I saw how peaceful she seemed. I put the photo back in the book and the book back in the table with the light turned off and went to the cell door with my jacket slung over my shoulder.

I locked myself in the cell next to Tara's and collapsed on the bed, then just closed my eyes. If I was gonna die, I could never bring my family down with me.

Just incase.


	17. Confirmation

Chapter 17:

Confirmation

A few days went by and nothing really happened. There was a lot of talk about talking about what to do, but never really coming up with a plan. Over the years, I had seen this happen with Dad. He almost always had a plan, but there were times when he just didn't know. That's when Carl took over, but I noticed a reluctance on Dad's behalf lately.

I never brought up my plan again, because I knew when to let things go. But I still had it in my back pocket.

Tara and I went back to our regular thing. We joke, mock and injure each other like with flicks on the head. You know, friend stuff. Carl and I were friends again, like our little argument never happened. But things between me and Daryl were awkward, and I figured he felt guilty for yelling at me, or something. Dad and I were closer, though, and by closer I meant less bad. We weren't hugging or anything, but there were less glares and looks of disappointment.

But about three days in, Carl started to get impatient. Me, Carl, Rick and Daryl were at one of the tables in the communal area looking over the map again. The others were doing their own thing and Abraham was studying up on basic medical practice. Growing up, he lived on a farm, so he knew a thing or two about delivery. It came as a shock to all of us.

I sat next to Carl with my hands clapped over my ears, staring down at the map. "I am so sick of this map..."

Dad cracked a smile, then forced it away. "I'm sure we'll think of a plan soon enough." Dad stood just like every other time, only with a marker twirling between his fingers. Today we decided to circle different parts of the map for possible areas to move into.

Daryl had sat next to Dad at the beginning of this, looking tired of this conversation as well as irritated.

Carl pressed his finger against some part of the map. "How 'bout this place right here?" We all looked.

I frowned. "A school?"

"Yeah," Carl said with a shrug.

Dad shook his head. "Wouldn't work—not enough protection."

I shrugged. "Actually, from what I've seen, private schools have a lot of protection; walls, gates."

Dad's eyes scanned the map and I wondered how he didn't have it memorised by this point. "I don't see any private schools nearby."

"There's one," Daryl mumbled. "'Bout five miles from the city."

I looked over at him, dropping my hands against the table. "How do you know?"

He shrugged. "Jus' do."

I didn't care enough to find out. Dad contemplated it. "That's near a hundred miles out. Could be a dangerous journey."

I smirked. "What, and the journey from Washington was safe?"

"But that was necessary. Now we gotta be cautious," Dad said, doing that finger tapping on the table.

"We're just goin' round in circles," Daryl grunted and we all looked to him. Usually his negative comments were followed by something useful. His cheek twitched at he look to Dad. "Beth's gonna have the baby soon. She can't have it on the road."

I thought about that for a moment. The logistics of the baby. "Can she have it here?"

Daryl looked to me. It had been awhile since he had, and that look only lasted a second because then he looked to Dad. I felt rejected.

"This place ain't too safe. The only thing stopping walkers from attacking is one door."

Carl looked to Daryl and I noticed something dark in his eyes. "But it's safe to have the actual procedure." He stared down at the map. "We know that much."

Oh, right. I was born here.

I coughed uncomfortably. "So we'll stay here until Beth pops, then what?" I asked. "Go on the run with a new born baby?"

Dad shook his head. "It was hard enough the first time," he said in reference to me. My existence was a pain sometimes.

"Hell no," Daryl grunted. "But Beth can't take the roads much longer."

Carl sighed impatiently. "How about we stay here for as long as we can, and for the birth, and keep scouting out for new places to move."

Dad nodded (nice change). "We were lucky the first time when we found this place. We gotta work with what we have."

"So..." I said with a raised brow.

Dad paused, thinking about the plan before stating it outright. "We stay and keep scouting. In the meantime, we scavenge for whatever's left and Daryl and Judith can hunt regularly."

Daryl rubbed his small scraggly beard with his thumb. "Good a plan as any, I guess," though he didn't sound too convinced. Daryl then got up and left with a slump in his step and that ended the discussion.

I watched him walk away with an irked expression. "I hate it when he does that."

Dad gave me an acknowledging glance before staring down at the map. He started circling places, including the school Carl pointed out. "You'll have to cut him some slack. He's thinking like a father, now." He gave me another glance. "He ain't gonna be the same once the baby's born."

I frowned. "Is that a good thing?"

Then he gave me and Carl a smile. "Fatherhood's never a bad thing."

I blushed. Resistance was futile.

Dad circled a few more places then started folding up the map. "So that's settled, then."

Carl and I both smiled at that fact, then there was a comfortable silence among us Grimes'. And I of course had to ruin it. "So..."

"Mm?"

"Since we're gonna be scouting out possible places anyways," I began with a casual tone, "How about me and Carl... Check out Terminus?" I suggested. Dad's head snapped up and he looked at me with first a threatening glare, which softened into a simple rejection.

"Judith," he sighed. "I thought I made myself very clear."

"I know, I know, but," I stopped myself when no logical reasoning came to mind, but I continued anyways. "You know... Free will, and all that," I said and regretted it immediately.

"Excuse me?" Dad stood up straight, placing his hands on his hips to express his authority.

I looked up at him innocently. "I get you not wanting to check out Terminus, for the sake of the group and whatnot, but if I were to check out the place on my own, then..." I gave him a hopeful grin, which was not returned.

"Not a chance in hell."

I rolled my eyes and raised my hands in surrender. "Fine," I sighed, then stood up slowly. Carl did the same.

"Where are you going?" He asked with a rather calm tone.

I started walking towards the cell blocks where I knew Daryl would be. Probably up in the perch. "Well, if I'm not gonna go scouting with Carl, I might as well go hunting with Daryl with my spare time."

"Alright," Dad said in approval and me and Carl headed into the cell blocks, leaving him alone with his map.

I turned my head to Carl and gave him a wry smile. He smiled back at me and frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Rick Grimes," I began like I was reading a slogan, then made a gesture with my hand. "Puts the 'dick' in 'dictator'," I joked. Carl went quiet for a moment before snorting a laugh and nudged me on the shoulder.

Ow.

It was right on my injury and I grunted from the pain, trying my best to hide it, but I did buckle a little.

Carl frowned down at me (he was like six inches taller than me). "You okay?"

I forced myself to smile and unbuckle my legs, and keep walking. "Peachy," I said sarcastically. If I wasn't he wouldn't believe I was okay. "Still a little sore, is all."

Carl looked at me sceptically, but let it go. I saw Daryl looking out the windows at the perch like I thought and Carl stopped me at the bottom of the stairs. "Want me to come?"

I shook my head. "Nah. Daryl and I can handle it." After all, I had been raised on hunting while Carl just made too much noise. But he was a better fighter than anyone I knew. Except Daryl. But that's because, well, he's _Daryl._

I nudged him on the arm and smirked. "I'll bring back some squirrel for yah," I said and trotted up the stairs to Daryl.


	18. Temper

**Author's Notes: **...Okay, so I change the main characters from Carl to Beth, and I get like twice the hits in a day. That's just wrong. But awesome. Review! (Oh, and in the previous chapter before the last one - reminisce - I forgot to warn caryl fans. So... My apologies. Then again, it was a cringe worthy moment for us all...)

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Chapter 18:

Temper

When I asked Daryl if he wanted to go hunting I knew he didn't want to go. At least not with me. But he gave me the nod and we went on our way out the door into the woods. I understood that Daryl would rather go hunting with Beth, who he'd been teaching since I was a baby, but he _really_ didn't want to go hunting with me. So clearly he was still pissed with me and I had trouble understanding exactly why.

But as we went deeper into the woods, his disliking attitude towards me became more unnoticeable and I payed attention to tracking of squirrels, rabbits and the like. But with my bow, I preferred killing birds. I started killing them when I was around nine after reading some book about a girl I seemed relate to.

Daryl tapped me on the shoulder and gave me the signal to raise my bow. He snuck forward so quiet I couldn't even hear his feet crunch against the twigs and leaves. Quite a gift of his. Daryl picked up a rock, I aimed my bow into the sky and he tossed it into a bush and a small flock burst out of it. Both Daryl and I got one.

It was easy to do when you have people help you, especially Daryl. I jogged over to pick it up, yanked out my arrow from it's fluffy chest and put it back in my quiver. Daryl walked over to me and took the bird from me by the feet to inspect it.

"Good enough," he grunted as he stared down at it before giving it back to me. One bird per person and it took us three hours to get two. We usually had better luck, but there were days when we had to go further into the woods, which we knew was more of a risk.

I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and looked to Daryl. I gave a whistle, he looked back and I gestured my head in that direction.

I heard more rustling along a tree's branches and slowed my walk down. I crouched slightly and kept as quiet as I could. Daryl got on his knee next to me and aimed his crossbow in the same direction. Guess it was whomever got it first. We listened for the rustling and waited, until finally something red and furry emerged from the leaves down the tree trunk.

Daryl's arrow hit it first, then mine. The squirrel was stabbed into the tree and I looked at Daryl who was already striding towards it with me behind him. He yanked my arrow out from the squirrel's head, then looked at me. Finally! He acknowledges my presence voluntarily.

Then he said, "Your timin' still needs work."

Ouch. I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to glare at him as I walked up to him to collect my arrow. Then I stared down at his arrow and yanked it out, the squirrel with it. His got it by the tail. My arrow got the head. I stared down at it and slid Daryl's arrow out from the squirrel then handed it to him.

I looked up at him. "Your aim needs work," I said, then took my arrow out of his hand. "We're even."

Daryl's eyes narrowed down on me, but he knew what I meant and that we were. Then he took a step back and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He shrugged a brow. "Let's see who gets the next one."

Usually when Daryl said this it became a friendly competition and he would hone my skills, but now it didn't seem so friendly. I hated it.

We walked another hour into the woods into a dead area. There was nothing, but the two of us were too awkward to say anything, so now we just stood and waited for noise of some kind.

Eventually I got bored and told him so. He stared back at me, then around him and pointed west. "We walk a little that way and we're near Yellow Jacket Creek."

"Fishing?" Not my strong suit.

"Nah, but the woods near there is good. Could have ten squirrels in minutes."

"Okay," I said with uncertainty in my tone. I mean I knew he was right, but considering the journey, and all.

"What?" He grunted and squinted at me. "Got a better idea?"

I sighed, leaning against the closest tree and lowering my bow. "Nope. But more game means more walkers, and I don't think we can afford the journey when it's an extra hour out." I honestly wasn't trying to make trouble, I was just thinking the way Daryl taught me to.

He snorted rudely and I kicked myself from the tree staring at him narrowly. "Something you wanna say to me, Daryl?"

His sour expression didn't disappear, and he turned away from the lookout for animals. "Funny coming from you, is all."

I cocked a brow. "Yeah? How so?"

He kicked the heel of his boot against some twigs. "Ain't you the girl always lookin' for danger?" He took a step closer to me, closing the large distance between us by a smidge. "Now you're afraid of a few walkers?"

I sighed tiredly and pinched the arch of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut before reopening them to see Daryl still glaring at me. "Okay, so you're clearly pissed at me."

Daryl gave another rude snort and started his small paces. "Picked up on that, did ya?" He made a pointing gesture in the air when he said that. Hm. Pacing. Snort. Hand gestures. All the warning signs before getting into a fight with Daryl.

I gave a sarcastic laugh then rubbed my lower lip with my dirty thumb. "This is probably a stupid question, but why?" I raised a brow. "What precisely did I do to piss you off?"

Daryl tossed a stick he'd been fiddling with at the ground. "You ain't done nothin' to me."

"Did I do something to Beth, then?... Did I say something...?"

Daryl strode right up to me. "It ain't what you done to Beth, Judith, it's what you're doing to yourself!" Daryl readjusted his crossbow and attempted to storm off past me, but ended up hitting me in my injured shoulder. The bump was harder than I could handle and I let out a grunt of pain. Daryl walked back and stared down at me with a mixture of concern and fear on his face, as well as passive aggression.

Daryl stared down at my shaking arm and curled a hand around my jacket collar, then yanked it down which revealed my bandaged wound. From the look in his eyes... For the first time in a long time, I saw the anger he was capable of feeling; what he kept buried deep inside.

Daryl roughly gripped at the tail of my bandage and started pulling.

"Ow, Daryl—" I tried to tug away from the pain. "Daryl, stop!"

He gave one strong pull and the bandage ripped off, luckily my wound had healed to the point of an ugly scab, so no skin went with the bandage. My breath caught, as well as his and for a moment, everything was silent. I was suddenly so aware of the fear I felt from him finding out.

Daryl stared down at my wound with his mouth gaped open slightly before his mouth curled into a glowering scowl. His hands curled into white-knuckled fists and he hit them forcefully against the tree behind me. I flinched.

He stared down at me in that intimidating way he did with his nostrils flaring. He scowled at me up and down like I was his enemy and all I could see was the expanding black pupils in his eyes.

"Look at you... Gettin' all _high and mighty_ about stupid shit you ain't know nothin' about!" He took a step back and did the pacing thing again while I did my best to look cold and cool, but really the biggest challenge was to keep from averting my eyes.

"...All 'cause you think you're invincible!" He shouted, shaking his hand out in front of him with my bandage firmly in his grasp. "...Thinkin' you can take care of yourself without any help, or nothin'!" He growled loudly, giving me dark stares up and down between sentences. His face turned red and I could see the veins popping from his neck, as well as the sweat dripping down it.

I didn't say anything, because I didn't have anything to say. Honestly, I was doing everything I could to keep from crying at this point.

Then he stormed right back up to me, his nose inches away from my own and I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat.

In a quiet voice he said, "You ain't as brave as you think. Just stupid." Then he threw me back my bandage before heading off into the woods on his own.

I started down into my hands that were shaking vigorously, the bandage entwined in my fingers. I held it close to my chest, then fell back against the tree and sunk to the floor.


	19. Dealing

Chapter 19:

Dealing

My bandage was back on and we had spent the last hour walking east away from Yellow Jacket Creek by Daryl's orders. After I had sunk into a ball of weakness back by the dead area, I forced myself to accept what he said, accept it and move on. It wasn't as easy as that, but I would manage. I had pulled out the duckies blanket from my pocket and smelled it. That helped manage the shame and humiliation.

When I had caught up to Daryl he had this look in his eye; the same calm caring look I had grown up with that reminded me about the duckies blanket.

We kept walking until more moss started showing up on the trees and the bush started to get more wild. Then we slowed down in anticipation for game but not to a crouch, or anything, though our weapons were firmly in our grip.

Daryl was the first to talk.

"Does it hurt?"

I only glanced at him quickly before staring at the ground ahead because I didn't wanna trip on anything. I shrugged. "Yeah, but... It's manageable." I caught his quick glances.

"How'd you do it?"

I hesitated before telling him in fear of how he might react. "Used a serrated knife and a flame. Carved it off." When I turned my head and saw him staring at me in disbelief I smiled weakly. "Tara helped. Didn't have the stones to do it on my own."

"Huh," he said and I got suddenly anxious.

I stared at him. "But it was just a shallow scratch—not worth losing my arm, so I didn't amputate. I took the necessary precautions: locks, closed cells and Tara as a guard in the other cell," I said then gave off a small laugh. "Oh, and I'm not on my period."

I saw him grimace and I smirked.

"Still, you got balls, Jude... Only person I ever knew did somethin' like that was Merle."

I bobbed my head. Daryl never really talked about Merle and he fascinated me more than anybody. I'd heard stories about some dude named Dale before, and of course about Hershel and Maggie and Glenn... Even some tedious stories about some bitch named Andrea. But no one ever talked about two people: Merle and Shane.

But at least Merle ended on a good note. So the mentioning of Merle made my head snap up, like a dog's ears.

"Right, right," I mumbled. "But cutting off a sliver of skin isn't exactly the same as cutting off a hand."

The corner of Daryl's mouth quirked into a small smile, if only for a moment. "Toughest son of a bitch I ever med, my brother." He went quiet, then said, "Till the very end."

I saw the pain in his eyes and an image of Carl's neck getting ripped out came to mind, then I felt cold. I couldn't imagine a pain worse than losing a brother, except maybe a child. Hopefully Daryl would never have to experience that.

"Wait... the toughest? Tougher than you?"

"Uh-huh," Daryl said without a seconds' hesitation.

I frowned at that. I mean, I'd heard stories. "Nope. I don't believe it."

Daryl snorted. Then the silence was back. I wondered if this meant we would be okay, because the thought of Daryl being mad at me for longer than a day bothers me. It irks me. Even more than when Carl's pissed at me. With Dad, things were more often bad then good. Then again, lately... Oh shit.

I stopped Daryl with my hand against his chest, then when he looked down at it to me, I dropped it. "You're not gonna tell anybody?" I asked, but I couldn't hide the pleading from my tone.

Daryl's lips pressed together and he stared at me a long time. I couldn't read his expression. "Daryl, there's a reason I didn't tell anybody. I mean look how you reacted." I raised a brow. "You really think telling Rick'll do any good?"

His eyes narrowed a little. "You're his daughter." He shuffled his feet a bit and the twigs beneath his feet snapped. "Rick has a right to know."

"That will benefit absolutely no one," I said, hoping that maybe I could get through to him. And with Daryl, you either have his side or you don't. There's never any lenience, so I knew I only had one shot.

I felt my gut sink when he looked down at his shoes first, before looking to me. "If you were my daughter, I'd want to know," he mumbled. A lump formed in my throat.

_If..._

I cleared my throat with a cough before coming up with a new approach. "I'll make you a deal," I said all formal like. I may as well have been talking to Dad. "If I promise not to do anymore stupid shit, then you promise not to tell anyone. Not Carl, not Rick, and _especially_ not Beth." I narrowed my eyes on him coldly, looking as tough as I could. "Deal?"

Daryl looked at me gently, like an injured puppy. He pressed his lips together firmly and I waited for him to either mumble a feeble no, or yes. My wound began to throb in pain at the thought of him saying no.

"Mh hm," he mumbled – I knew he would mumble. Then he walked off with me right behind him.

"It's for the best, Daryl."

"Whatever," he mumbled again, with a shrug. I started tugging at my jacket, readjusting it to lessen the returning pain and Daryl noticed. "Sorry about... before..." He walked over a log and we started moving diagonally, probably towards something he'd seen.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "No, you're not," I said and he looked at me over his shoulder. "And you shouldn't be," I told him, then a smile curled onto my lips.

He didn't agree with me, just kept walking. "Still, I could'a handled it better."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The message got through."

I didn't even notice the rabbit ahead until Daryl shot it. He jogged over and picked it up, then tossed it in the bag with the rest. "Yeah... We'll see."

I didn't know if I was telling the truth when I had said that, and clearly Daryl didn't either. But hearing the doubt in his voice hurt, and I knew I would do one of two things: do what he said to prove him wrong, or do more stupid shit because he's right.

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**Author's Notes: **So yeah, new chapter and all. I was a little uneasy about the direction I took with it, but shit's about to get real. What do you think? And thanks to those who reviewed.


	20. The brave and the cowardice

Chapter 20:

The brave and the cowardice

That night, I slept like a baby with a single serving of squirrel all to myself. We had caught enough to last us all two days and I wasn't on watch. But that night didn't last long, because when I got up I was put to work. I was grateful for it because I was never really one to just sit around. It made me feel like I was worthy.

Others did not feel the same way.

The whole group was discussing what we were going to do, and who we were paired up with. Dad looked to his left first with a finger pointed. "Beth, Abraham, you stay put," Dad said and next turned to his righthand man. "Daryl, I want you with Carl," he said and pointed down to the map. I was leaning against the far wall by the cell block entrance, so I couldn't see where he was pointing to, but I figured it would be somewhere important.

He said something along the lines of: "You'll scout the far side here. Cover these bases and keep an eye out for..." Then I lost track. It wouldn't be necessary for me to hear, so I stopped listening, and waited for my name to be metaphorically pulled out of the hat.

"Tara, you and Michonne work well together," Dad said and I saw Tara perk up in surprise. She smiled slightly in flattery, then hid it and toughened her stance, trying to act cool. I grinned to myself because I loved that she was so full of shit. "You check out..." Blah, blah, woof, woof.

I was surprised when he said my name. There was no sigh beforehand, or concerning glances. Wow, we really were on better terms, now. "Judith and I will go west past the tracks."

I cocked a brow. "Back towards the highway?"

"Mh hm," he said, looking up at me all serious like. But still no coldness in his eyes.

"I thought we were scouting places."

"We are," Dad pointed to the map, so I kicked myself off the wall and walked over to it. His index finger trailed from the highway to place labelled 'factory'. "I thought we might check out this factory while we were close. We can gather supplies from the cars, siphon whatever gas we can."

The plan sounded good so I gave him my okay and Dad looked to all of us. "Alright, we know our roles. Anyone gets into any trouble, you get out fast as you can and come back here, no exceptions." He said with his most warning eye contact. Then he reached for his machete and told us all to head out.

Being paired up with Dad was generally a daunting thing, but now it didn't seem too bad. It just seemed awkward, which could be considered worse. Maybe I should have just let the scratch infect me...

After about an hour of walking through the woods at a quick pace, I looked to Dad. "Did you properly consider the extent of our walk?" Dad kept his hand on his holstered machete and kept walking, glancing at me with his characteristic brooding look.

"Nah," Dad shrugged, "It ain't that far." I leaped over a log because, well, why the hell not and trotted ahead of Dad a bit. You see, this gave me time to do random shit like twirl on my feet and wriggle my arms in some ridiculous excuse of a dance. Because, well, why the hell not? That, and Beethoven was playing in my mind—the symphony Beth would sometimes play for me. But she was more into that girly country stuff.

Dad stopped near the log and just watched me with a confused grin on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing," I breathed between ballerina flutters.

"Are you sure?" He asked with a quirky smile and I stopped and looked at him with a gaping grin in utter shock. "Did you just make a joke?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

And I grinned at him. "Well, I mean when you're around someone as _hilarious_ as me, humor is bound to rub off on others," I said in a unbelievably arrogant way, jokingly of course. Though I believe I have my moments...

"Yeah, sure," Dad said doubtfully, but I enjoyed the fact that the smile hadn't left his face, "Let's just keep walkin'."

About twenty minutes of silence went by, but it wasn't awkward at all. I didn't have the desire to bolt, or kill him, or even kill myself! Improvement. Every so often we would catch each others' glances and smile. We were still like three hours away from the highway, maybe more and the sun was beating down on us. I hated the heat and I was sweating my ass off, and normally I would get over it, but I was wearing my leather jacket and the sweat was starting to soak into my wound, which stung like a bitch – then again, not nearly as bad as sawing off your skin. I resisted the urge to rub at the wound.

"You alright?" Dad asked. Okay, so clearly I wasn't that good at hiding my pain, but to be fair—oh, screw it.

"Yeah, I'm fine... Just hot, is all." I masked my pain with grunts. I felt like Daryl.

Dad bobbed his head and kept his eyes ahead. Before, we were travelling through a dead area, like with Daryl, but like with him, the grass was longer, there was more moss and fallen logs. I knew we'd come across some scuttling food with legs and fur, so I swung my bow off my shoulder, figuring I might as well while we were out here.

"Keep a quick pace; we don't wanna lose the sun on the way back," Dad ordered and I saluted him. "Yes, sir," in a mocking tone, but he let it slide.

Some things wouldn't change.

Then he cleared his throat and gave me a quick brooding glance and my breath caught in anticipation. "Y'know, while we're out here... I was thinkin' we could talk." He saw the disappointment about that in my eyes. "Not about anything bad, Judith. Just to catch up; touch base with you."

We hit a spot without tree and I shielded my eyes from the sun with my forearm. "Is that why you paired up with me?"

He hesitated before answering and that got me curious. "Actually, it was Daryl's suggestion."

Shit, shit, shit.

Okay, act cool. "Why, did he say something?"

Dad stopped his movement for a second in suspicion. "Should he have?"

Probably. "Nope." He nodded in silence, and I rethought my approach. "But Daryl set me straight," I told him and he stared straight at me as he walked, regardless of the likely possibility of tripping. "I told him I'd stop doing stupid shit," I said, thinking that would make Dad happy or even proud, but he stayed quiet.

"...That got anything to do with the deal you two made?"

Fuck.

"What?" I snapped and ended up tripping on a hole and stammering into a tree, then he caught me by the arm to stop me from falling, which actually did worse because of what arm he gripped at. Tears from the pain threatened to fall down my cheek, but when they didn't I considered it a small triumph.

Dad pulled me up to my feet and I looked up at him anxiously, brushing the stray brown hairs out of my blue eyes. He didn't look angry, just concerned about my falling. It bugged me that I couldn't read his expression.

"Daryl told me about the deal you made."

I forced a joking smile onto my face. "Actually, when one jackass breaks a deal, it no longer counts so much as a deal, but as a... cause of death," I said through gritted teeth.

Dad made a dismissing gesture with his hand and adjusted his stance. "Now, don't go blamin' Daryl; he was just trying to do the right thing."

I frowned at him and resisted making a 'pfft' noise. Then I looked at him wearily. "...You're not gonna blow up like Daryl, are you?"

He breathed a small laugh before raising his chin to brood at me. "No, Judith," he said, then took a long pause. "But I gotta say I'm concerned you didn't come to me for help when you needed it most."

I shrugged and looked up at him apologetically. "I just didn't wanna worry you guys." And I didn't want to make the pain worse with angry yells of disappointment and condescension.

"That's okay," he said and I could tell it was killing him to say that. I knew he was trying his hardest to keep the peace between us. "But from now on, you come to me before doing (pause and small smirk) 'stupid shit'."

I smirked back.

Then with a gentle nudge in my ribs, we kept on walking and started down a slanted hill but I could tell he wasn't the only one who didn't want the conversation to end. Honestly, it felt liberating being able to talk about this.

I smiled, readjusting my bow as I did. "You know, it's not as bad as it sounds," I said, still with the smile.

"What isn't?"

I looked over at him with mild confusion. "The scratches. Barely even got me, so it's not like I had to carve very much."

Just then, Dad stopped and gripped at my wrist, roughly stopping me too. I thought maybe he'd seen a walker or something, but then he stared down at me darkly. "What scratches?"

Ah, shit.

Suddenly the heat wasn't a problem as a shiver ran down my spine and I felt cold. Really cold. I hadn't said anything for too long and Dad's grip on my wrist tightened. "What scratches, Judith?" He repeated slowly and with anger creeping up into his tone.

I frowned. "You said Daryl told you... about the deal?"

Dad's grip remained the same and I couldn't pay attention to it because his deadly looking eyes were too distracting. If this was anyone outside my family looking at me like that, I would've reached for my knife.

He looked past me then at me. "Daryl told me you promised to stop doing _dumb ass_ _shit_ like taking down a horde of walkers on your own if _he_ promised not to say anything to me about your reluctance to call for help during it."

"Oh."

Then he leaned further down until a drop of sweat from his nose fell onto my cheek. "What. Scratches. Judith?" I growled. I made the mistake of glancing down at the wound, because he noticed and yanked my jacket down my shoulder, revealing the sweat-stained white bandage.

I could not only feel but hear his shaky breath, then he took his grip on my wrist away, shoving it against me and I stammered back a step from the force.

He started pacing angrily in circles. "WHAT THE—" Dad immediately lowered his voice, walking back up to me, real close, too. "What the hell is wrong with you, Judith?" He growled.

Oh, good, more yelling.

I figured that was a rhetorical question, so I didn't say anything. It didn't affect me, either, because all I could think was how well it was going before this. I should have known it wouldn't last.

But then I saw Dad control his aggressive breathing and it was clear the immediate rage was passing. He looked straight ahead so I could only see his ear and scraggly beard. "How?" He asked, and I knew what he was asking. Oh man, not this question again.

I sighed one disappointed breath in anticipation for his reaction. "Serrated blade, a lighter and vodka to sterilize it. I had help." Hm. No point sugar-coating it, or bringing Tara into this.

I saw Dad's eye brow raised in surprise which he then tried to hide. Guess he was impressed by my brave stupidity, like Daryl. "So..." He said, glancing down at his feet then back ahead, still refusing to look at me. "You told Daryl, then made a deal with him not to tell."

I shook my head. "I didn't _tell_ Daryl. He yanked my jacket off the same way you did," I said coldly. Feeling guilty over this once was enough, and from Daryl, no less.

"Ah," he murmured. "So you kept it from both of us..." Then he laughed, grimacing up at the sun. "Well, the deal's broken, so guess you're gonna go back to doin' stupid shit, huh?"

I gritted my teeth. "True, but when I tell Daryl I will do something, I do it," I growled back. Looks like my metaphorical balls were back. "That's what happens when I both love and respect someone," I sneered, "Not like you would know..."

"You really think you can keep that promise after _that_?"

"Yes." I sounded certain because he didn't, but in truth, I still didn't know if I was.

Dad looked up at the sky and gave a small laugh. It would have hurt me had I cared what he thought. Well, I did care, but now I was pissed off. I lowered my voice to a normal volume. "You really have that little faith in me, don't you?" I asked rhetorically. "Fine," I shrugged. "Then screw Daryl'd deal. Screw you. I was going to do my best to change because _he_ asked me to for _your_ benefit. But now..." I snorted, "Now I couldn't care less. If you think I can't change, then perhaps you're right. And to be honest, I don't really care to. I've been keeping myself alive since I could walk, and been keeping all of you alive since I could shoot." I couldn't stop myself. "What you consider stupidity, I consider bravery," I said proudly. "And just because you're such a coward," I spat, "doesn't mean I have to be." I waited in anticipation with a small smirk for his response. I hoped to god I'd hurt him like he'd hurt me. I watched the side of his face, waiting to see something; anything that resembled pain.

But then he wiped away the sweat on his forehead, shrugged and looked at me finally. "Alright," he said calmly.

I blinked. "What?"

I gave me a look of cool indifference, then pointed ahead. "The tracks are about four miles that way." He looked back to me again, still with those cool baby blue eyes. "You wanna go to Terminus? Fine." Dad placed his hands on his hips. "We're goin' to Terminus."


	21. Marvelous

**Author's Notes: **Fair warning, this is like... the ultimate of all the chapters I've written. My personal favourite. If this doesn't strike up heaps of reviews, nothing will... Review!

* * *

Chapter 21:

Marvelous

I just kept blinking, not knowing what to say. So I went for the highly impressive and logical "...What?"

'Terminus. C'mon. Let's go." He said then when I said nothing back he cocked a brow. He almost looked bored.

My eyes narrowed on him in confusion and I folded my arms across my sweaty chest. The fact that I was wearing a white shirt did not help matters because now my lacy black bra was visible. "Okay, I know you're making a point," I told him with an expressive hand gesture, "I just have no idea what that point is..."

Dad took a step closer, closing the wide gap between us sightly. "I am not making a point, Judith."

"Good..." I said unsurely, so it sounded like more of a question.

"Alright, look," Dad's eyes narrowed down on me even more. "I cannot stop you from doing radical shit like taking down a horde of walkers on your own or going to Terminus," he said calmly, then his voice became darker and more aggressive to make his point clear, "_But do not expect me to sit by and watch it happen,_" he hissed, looking directly into my eyes.

I looked at him in silence for a moment. Then I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the tree, bending my leg. "Hm," I said pressing my lips tightly together in thought. "So you accept my plan, then. Meaning I am in charge. I tell you to run and you run. I jump into some line of fire, and you don't say anything," I tested him, curious for his reaction, which I did not get.

He sighed, and pushed me forward in front of him by my arm. "Just go."

I yanked my arm away and looked at him before walking, then bowed slightly and said "Marvelous..."

When Dad said we were only four miles away from the tracks, he meant we were four miles away from the tracks next to the tunnel and our cars. I strode towards the truck with our other shit boxed up and pulled off the covering as well as the camouflaging branches. He reached for the emergency water bottles and watched curiously as I reached for the duffel bag full of weapons.

I unzipped it and pulled out the spare bow and quiver full of arrows, then extended it to Dad. He raised a brow, mid-sip. "Thought you said there were good people."

I rolled my eyes. "And there are, but best be protected and those measly machetes of yours aren't real great for anything other than walkers." I took his hand and slapped the wooden bow into his hand with a momentary glare. "Shit hits, I'm gonna need you there for back up."

I looked back down into the bag, prospecting other weapons, but decided I didn't need much else than a bow and arrows, and an emergency knife, (and of course the throwing knives holstered around my leg.) I'd left my machete at the prison.

Poor Dally...

Even so, I still rummaged a bit through the bag like an old lady with her purse, and my hands curled around the least valuable thing. Dad's gun. Well, actually it's my gun now since he gave it to me, but I didn't carry it. The weapon was once useful, but now it was just a waste of space, but I still kept it because Dad gave it to me.

He gave it to me because he said he was proud of me; because I was ready for this world. That was the day I started doing stupid shit, because I believed what he told me.

Proud of me... What bullshit.

"Somethin' the matter?" Dad asked sceptically as he waited. He didn't see the gun or the fact that I was holding it. All he saw was me looking weirdly into a bag while I went through my tedious emotional thought process.

I let go of the gun, zipped up the bag and shoved it aside. "Nope. Let's just cover the car and move."

I was prepared for awkward. I was surprised about the whole bonding thing. And now it seemed like things were back to normal. I was pissed and avoiding tripping on the pole permanently shoved up his ass.

We'd been walking about another hour, and the sun was slowly falling, but still remained high above which didn't improve the sweat coming from both me and Dad. So it was about three in the afternoon and if things went okay, we'd be back at the prison right before sunset, or directly after. Good enough. Daryl and Carl wouldn't be truly worried until about an hour after that.

Dad didn't exactly lead the way seeing we were simply following the tracks until he said we should cut through the woods. "...Unless of course, you'd like to go for a different plan," he suggested with a cold stare.

I forced a smile upon my face. "No, Rick, we'll go with your plans." I walked away from the tracks past him before adding rather bitchily and ever so sarcastically, "We all know how well those work out." Actually, I always had complete faith in his plans, but I was still irked.

"The fences to Terminus are somewhere around here, so keep quiet and have an eye out," he warned me and I just nodded along. I could focus on the fact that he was giving me orders again and be annoyed, or I could accept it and pay attention to not dying in Terminus. We kept walking through the woods, and I noticed something strange.

"No walkers," I whispered to him, and he looked at me once again broodingly.

'Yeah, I noticed that, too," Dad whispered back.

I itched my nose in thought. "Could mean there's no one in Terminus for walkers to kill." Then I reconsidered. "Or that all the walkers were killed by Terminus."

"Guess so..." Dad sighed, then he didn't say anything else, because we saw a fence hidden by trees and moss in the short distance. I got real quiet to the point where I couldn't hear my own footsteps, but Dad's were obnoxiously loud resulting in me giving him a well deserved glare.

As we came closer to the fence, Dad and I exchanged a look, then crouched to the floor and spoke, barely even audible.

"Now," Dad began. Even at a time like this he'll still have some speech prepared. "We're just scouting, so keep clear of anything dangerous."

I nodded. "Keep your weapon raised, and always stay behind me," I ordered, then he shook his head.

"You got the better shot," he said.

I know.

"You'll cover me if I get into something I can't get out of." He was right, so I gave him my nod of agreement and we went back to total silence. Then Dad went right up to the fence with me behind him and peeked through the gates which were covered in moss, almost invisible – especially to walkers. Clever...

He looked at me over his shoulder and shook his head, so I went up next to him to peak through. Our sights were blocked by rigid metal walls with a rusted colour to it. The kind of metal you see for shipping containers.

I saw the darkness in his eyes and I knew memories were flowing through. I could tell he was going to coward out.

I understood it, but I did not accept it, so I kept on walking along the fence waiting to find a gap, and I came across one. I looked through and saw nothing. No people, just a large pavement courtyard with a building far across. It seemed secure and I gave Dad the nod. I could see him forcing himself to be brave and ignore the pain in his heart as he reached up to climb over the fence, but I grabbed his arm.

"Wait," I said, then looked to my feet for a rock. I found one the size of my fist, which was a tad larger than I'd hoped, and threw it over the fence, then looked for movement or responses. There was none, and Dad started to climb with the spare bow and quiver slung over his cotton padded shoulder. I heard his feet land firmly on the ground, then I went next, and we were in Terminus.

I looked to my side and saw that I was right about them being shipping containers blocking our view, and so did Dad, because I heard his heavy breathing, and I looked to him. I worried he might pass out, and I knew he'd be a total liability.

I looked at him blankly with my weapon raised and nodded towards the side of the brick building. We travelled along side of it, keeping as quiet as we could, and keeping our eyes out.

I noticed the thin tracks along the pavement and the fact that it was so clean. Dad kept walking along the wall with me behind him, then stopped and pushed me back, his arm pressed across me. "_Get back, get back," _he hissed and I did, then he looked at me, and all I could see was the obvious panic in his eyes. Suddenly they seemed a vulnerable baby blue and not the cool icy cold they were before. Like the picture.

"_Go!" _He hissed and we started sprinting quietly back the way we came, until I saw the ladder on the side of the building. Without looking to him for confirmation, I climbed it until I found myself on the flat roof. I helped my sweaty Dad up then looked to him.

I crouched behind a large ventilation thing with him, and cocked a brow. "What did you see?" I asked him.

"People," he breathed, "More than we could handle, with weapons at the ready." He stared at me darkly. "I told you, Judith. Nothing here has changed and we need to go."

I shook my head. "We are also people with weapons at the ready, dumbass," I said calmly. "I'm not leaving until I make sure this place is unsafe," I told him with a growl to my voice, then looked around me. All I could see from here was where we'd come from and the ground. If I were to go to the edge, I'd see everything. Better yet, there was a rooftop window that meant I could see what Dad had seen.

"Judith," Dad said with a warning tone, "This is the kind of stupid shit I was talking about."

I nodded. "I know. And I also know there is a chance I could get hurt or even die, but I also know that if there are good people here, then we're safe, and if I'm wrong and they're still _eating_ people and keeping them in shipping containers, then I'm going to do whatever I can to save them," I said, still calmly. It was strange; intense situations like these tended to bring out the calm, serious side of me. I pointed an accusing finger at him. "You would do the same thing if you weren't so jaded."

Dad gave me a look, and I didn't know how to interpret it. Could've been hurt, anger or even shame.

Then Dad smacked his hand on my wrist and gripped so tightly it hurt. "We're leaving," he growled. "_Now._"

I paused as I contemplated my options, then I eventually nodded my head. "Fine," I said still calmly, then raised my chin. "Let's go."

"Okay," Dad said, then pushed me towards the ladder. I stopped and shoved him past me. "You go first," I told him, "Like you said; I have better aim. I'll cover you till you're over the fence, then you cover me," I said and I could see him weighing his options, before nodding slowly. Sweat dripped from his nose.

Dad started climbing back down the rusted fence, and before his head disappeared out of my sight, I saw the way he looked at me. There was that vulnerability again, but it was for my sake. Not mine.

I kept on my knees in a crouched formation, raised my leg and used it as balance as I raised my bow and looked down. I pulled my arm back ready to shoot and kept it aimed near Dad. At first, I couldn't see anything while he stayed hidden in the shadows from the building, then saw him sprinting quietly towards the fence we came from, and for a brief second I relaxed my arm and arrow when I thought he was in the clear.

"HEY!"

Shit.

I aimed my bow towards the noise and had a scrawny teenager in a tight black shirt and jeans holding up a bow of his own in my target point, and I was ready to shoot.

"Hey, you!" He shouted again, "Stop!"

I pulled back my arm quickly and found myself completely ready to kill him, but didn't, because I saw the look in his eyes. He had his bow raised, but with no intention of shooting my Dad.

Dad.

I whipped my head back to see him sprinting as fast as he could towards the fence, but he made the mistake of stopping to look up at me. He no longer seemed like the logical guy who did whatever it took to keep alive. Now he looked like the idiot who cared more about his daughter's safety than his own. Even if it meant being shot.

Then I heard the crowd of footsteps running from inside the building towards him. I wanted to shout to him to get the hell out of here and jump the fence, but I couldn't risk being seen, so I did what I could and aimed my arrow towards the crowd.

Then I heard a sound I hadn't heard in a very long time: bullets. They were spitting at my Dad, but only by his feet.

The crowd was large: ten people, half of them covered head to toe in armor. I couldn't shoot without blowing my cover, but Dad still wouldn't move because he was staring up at me. Shit, what the hell, Dad?"

Then I gritted my teeth, choosing the truly stupid path by pulling my arm back again and shooting at the head of one person with a gun. "RUN!" I yelled angrily to Dad – my cover was already blown when I shot that arrow, and Dad finally listened.

The crowd looked up to me and I saw Dad jump over the fence, but not before I saw the crowd raise their guns on me.

"Shit," I muttered, then lunged to the floor, protected by the small edging of the roof. Bullets whizzed by my head and I let go of my bow to cover my head with my arms.

"Should we go after him?!" Some girl yelled, but her voice was muffled by her helmet.

"No!" Someone else yelled back, and I just knew he was one of the people shooting at me.

My senses kicked in and I reached for my bow, then started crawling towards the large ventilation cylinder thing for protection.

I raised myself to my knees behind the thing, then looked for an escape. Behind me was the fence Dad jumped over as well as people with guns, and in front of me I saw another building. When the people paused their firing for a single moment, I ran over the edge and fell onto the lower roof of the building attached to it, then kept running while the sound of bullets stopped.

Orders were shouted as they ran around the building to catch up with me, but there were benefits to roof jumping – it was quicker.

Beneath me was a courtyard with umbrella tables and a garden section. Looked just like a community should.

I kept running across the building, then jumped onto the next one, about a meter down. I tripped a little, and the ankle I'd injured then began to throb with pain, but, shocker, I ignored it, and jumped off. I neglected the fact that the ground was about four meters beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor, and just got up and kept sprinting.

"OVER HERE!" I heard that same teenager shout as he appeared from behind a corner, then raised his bow on me, and I did the same. I looked ahead and saw another edging of the fence, and if I could make it I was in the clear.

But this asshole with a bow was in my way and I had about twenty seconds before the crowd with even better weapons came and killed me.

Optimistic faith had absolutely no existence for me at this point.

"STOP!" The kid shouted at me, and I did, then aimed my bow. "LOWER YOUR WEAPON!" He ordered me.

I snorted. "Say please."

"If you don't, they'll kill you!" He warned me, and it was then that I was certain he wouldn't kill me. He didn't shoot Dad and he was trying to save me now.

I grinned and lowered my weapon to aim at his feet. "But you won't," I said, then started running for the fence.

"STOP!" He shouted then jumped in front of my path, raising his weapon to my head. "I _will_ shoot you!" He walked closer to me, and now he was only an arm length away. His raised bow filled the gap.

His people would be here any second, and I was gonna die.

I didn't know what to do, so I just did whatever came to mind, and dropped my bow to the pavement and I saw his shoulders relax and the most relieved of smiles come across his face.

Then I smirked. "Thank you, Abraham," I muttered before smacking his bow out of the way and smashing my fist into his nose. He was so pathetic at fighting that he fell on his ass and cupped his nose, which was streaming with blood. Then I ran for the fence, and with every step I got closer to it, the smile on my face grew.

Hope.

Dad.

It was waiting for me, and all I had to do was jump over it. But then I felt an arrow go through my thigh, and I fell against the fence. My fingers curled around the metal and when my head smacked into it, I could see someone in the distance.

Dad's figure became smaller and smaller as he ran further away, and I smiled.

Good. Because at least he was safe.


	22. Terminus

Chapter 22:

Terminus

"Back away from the fence and unstrap your knife holster and throw it towards us," someone with a Southern accent called out to me. Their voice was muffled by a helmet, so I didn't know if it was a girl.

...Oh, my god, was I seriously thinking about that right now?

I looked to my shaking hands, then down at the thigh with an arrow stuck halfway in it. "Can I take out the arrow first?" I called out, but it was more of a rhetorical quip as I fisted it and pulled, throwing it away before shakily unstrapping my throwing knives. I lifted it above my head slowly before tossing it aside, then awaited whatever order came next.

"Now the knife."

I sighed, then looked down at my boot, and the mere thought of bending over made my thigh ache, but I did it, hopping a bit as I did. I raised the hunter's knife and tossed it aside with my others.

"And the quiver of arrows."

I dropped my chin and rolled my eyes. "You really are a nit-picker, aren't you?" I sneered, then shrugged it off and tossed it aside. God, I felt naked.

It sucked.

Someone else started speaking, then. A man through a helmet. "Slowly turn around with your hands raised." I did, hopping on my left leg for the sake of my right one. I raised my chin and looked coldly among the crowd with guns and bows, and crossbows raised on me. This included the five or so people in complete armor, the other five or so people who were clearly less paranoid, the person I shot back on the roof who was cradling his arm and glaring at me, and the dumbass whose nose I just broke.

I made note of the fact that he was staring at me with wide eyes and his bow raised, but with no arrow. Ah. So he's the one who shot me.

Asshole.

I had to pull my glaring eyes away from the scrawny teenager to the two people standing further in front of everyone else, wearing the armor and cradling their machine guns. "Why did you come here? Are you with them?" The Southerner asked, and I was starting to think they were a girl.

I frowned, but I was in too much pain to think of something clever. All my energy was going into not crying in front of these dicks.

I forced a smirk onto my face. "'Terminus'," I began to quote, "'Community for all. Sanctuary for all'," my smirk disappeared and I glared right into their shaded face. "'Those who arrive, survive'." I cocked a brow.

The Southern leader looked to the male leader, before looking back to me. "Not for all."

The man interrupted her. "Answer the question! Are you with _them_?"

"Them? Who's them?" I sneered, because of course I had no idea. "I'm with the—" Well, that was dumb of me. I blamed my near slip about the prison on the brutal pain in my leg.

Not only did the two leaders exchange a glance, but so did other members of the group.

Then the kid with the bloody nose frowned at me. "You're not a Royal?"

"Yeah, no," I said with a shake of my head, then rested my arms on my head because they were getting tired with them raised in the air.

The male leader raised his gun even higher and strode a few steps closer. "Then what the hell do you want?!" He yelled.

"Wow, easy," I told him, raising my arms again. "I told you: me and my... associate... were looking for a community. Ours is gone, and we saw a sign, so we just scouted out the place, and..." I shrugged. "Now I have guns raised on me and a hole in my thigh." I sighed, tired of the questions. Then I dropped my hands to my side because I saw no other point. "So... Are you gonna kill me, or not?" I asked simply.

There was a long pause among the leaders, and complete silence among the other members, who lowered their weapons slightly.

Then the man took another step closer, still with his gun raised. "Depends."

I cocked a brow cooly, but my heart was pounding in fear of my possible future. "On what?"

Then the Southerner walked up next to the man and pulled off her helmet, revealing a girl with short brown hair and green eyes. "How many walkers have you killed?"

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Answer the question!" The man shouted and I shook a little in fear of not knowing what this person was capable of.

I let go one shaky breath, then forced myself to act cool. "I don't know... Probably two thousand. Maybe more..." I genuinely had no idea.

The asshole whose nose I broke looked at me with more than mild surprise. I knew I had reason to be arrogant.

"How many people have you killed?"

My throat caught.

"_How many people have you killed?"_ He repeated slowly and more calmly, but it was still more intimidating.

It took every bit of me to say the next bit. "Just one."

"Why?"

"She tried to kill me."

Sorry, Carol.

_Daryl stood upright with his hand curled around Beth's and watched as Carl paced up and down the cell blocks anxiously. "Where are they?" He growled, and all Daryl could see with his chin lowered like that was the top of his sherif's hat and part of his scar. "They were supposed to be back an hour ago." Michonne watched quietly from against the wall opposite the cells, waiting for the right moment to speak._

_Daryl wasn't good at the comforting thing, especially when he was as anxious as the person he was supposed to comfort. "I dunno," he grunted._

_Beth's hand squeezed even tighter and he could hear her crying silently. It was partially because of the hormones, but when it came to Judith, Beth was never okay._

_Daryl let go of her hand, cupped her cheek and kissed the top of her blonde head before shrugging his crossbow back onto his shoulder._

"_C'mon," he said to Carl who stopped at looked at him expectantly. "Let's go find 'em."_

"_Okay," Carl replied and headed for the door, but Tara and Abraham were in their path. _

"_We're coming with you," she breathed, looking up into Carl's cold eyes with her soulful brown ones. _

_Carl looked to Daryl who shrugged and said, "No arguments here." _

_Before they reached the red door, it was kicked open with a loud thump, and in came Rick. _

"They took her!" _He breathed anxiously, storming down the stairs towards Daryl and Carl. "THEY TOOK JUDITH."_

_It was like the wind was kicked out of Daryl and he felt dead inside. Broken. "What?" _

_Daryl saw the tears stained on Rick's face, and the sweat dripping from his face. He was dehydrated and desperate, but like the others, there would be no stopping._

_Michonne walked up to him and gripped at his forearms, keeping him still and looking into his eyes. "Rick. What happened?"_

_Rick's panicked eyes darted everywhere, and his mind was racing. "We—we went to Terminus."_

"_What?" Beth choked through her silent tears._

"_And—and we just scouted out the place, but then... she—she covered me, but I got caught," Rick breathed and then his eyes widened at the memory, but his eyes were dried of tears. "I screwed up. She told me to run, so I—I ran, and... They have her," I said, and he dropped his head. _

_Daryl watched quietly next to Carl, hanging off every detail escaping Rick's mouth. Carl didn't come to mind until he lunged at Rick from by his side._

"_You son of a bitch!" Carl yelled and thrusted his fist into his father's face. Rick fell to the floor and Carl pulled his hand back, thrusting it back into Rick's face again, over and over. "You (punch) son (punch) of a (punch) bitch!"_

"_HEY!" Daryl threw aside his crossbow and smacked his hands against Carl's muscular shoulders and did his best to pull him away. Carl was strong, but Daryl would always be stronger. _

"_IT'S YOUR FAULT!" Carl growled as Daryl pulled at his waist with Abraham's help. Michonne threw aside her sword and crouched down next to Rick, lying on his back, looking up at his son through a newly swollen eye. _

"_IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"_

"_Calm down!" Daryl grunted, finally pulling Carl away from his father and keeping him in place. Carl stood there, trying to yank himself free from Daryl's grasp. "JUDITH'S GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!" _

_Rick looked up into his son's eyes and saw what Judith would have seen: the same vulnerability in Carl's baby blue eyes, like Rick's own._

I looked around the small empty room with blocked out windows and a closed metal door across from me. The Southern bitch shoved me through the warehouse and in this room. Before chaining my hands to the metal pole in the middle of the room, she yanked off my jacket and double checked me for weapons.

I felt violated, and without my beloved jacket (which probably saved my life from the scratch going any deeper), I felt even more naked and exposed, and without a proper weapon, I was screwed.

But I didn't feel scared, because I wouldn't let myself. When I get out of here, and I will, I want to be able to look Carl in the eye and tell him I was as brave as he thought. Carl was the only one left who didn't describe me as stupid over brave, and I refused to let him down.

And then the door opened, and guy I shot walked through. He was wearing a white wifebeater shirt that was stained with his own blood and a newly rapped bandage over his upper arm, much like mine. This guy has a slight stubble with black matted hair—probably about forty, maybe older. But what I payed attention to was his bright green eyes which looked lazy, sad and... drunk. It was after I noticed that that I noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey sloshing in his hand and the slight drunken swaying in his stance.

He frowned down at me and slowly anger showed up on his face, but in an almost confused way. "You shot me!" He said in a slight Irish accent with his finger pointed at me.

I looked up at him coldly. "Oops," I said then smirked.

The drunken Irishman frowned down at me, then started laughing throatily to himself, swaggering over to me. I sat up straight and pulled my legs closer to me in alarm. I didn't know this man, or what he was capable of. He shot at my Dad without hesitation, but we seemed like the enemy.

I raised my chin with a sense of false power then cocked a brow. "Are you here to kill me?"

He whipped his head down towards me with absolute shock on his face. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

I frowned in confusion. "Be...cause I trespassed, shot at your people and put an arrow through your arm."

"No, no, no," he slurred while dismissing it with a wave of his arm, then crouched next to me so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Ol' girl, I only have one rule that of which I follow," he said, "No women, no children."

I grimaced. "That's a stupid rule," I said, then again, it was probably because of that rule that I was still breathing.

The man's eyes got darker and he slowly leaned in closer. I could see every detail of his face down to the small scar over his eye brow and the gold flecks in his otherwise flawless green eyes. He narrowed them on me and rolled his head slowly on his shoulders. I'd never seen anyone act so strangely and I could feel the fear creeping up on me.

"It is because of this stupid rule that you don't need a respirator to breathe... I wish you luck and strength for what is to come, dear girl."

I glared at him as he stared at me in wait for a response, but I kept my mouth shut. Eventually he got up and walked towards the door. But before he did, the drunken man literally bowed and walked away, slamming the metal door shut behind him.

Then I couldn't help it: the fear poured into me and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I'm sorry, Carl.


	23. Daddy

Chapter 23:

Daddy

It had been a few hours after the drunken fool came to me that his leader did, too. It was that man in armor who asked me all those questions, only he wasn't wearing his armor anymore, and I saw that he was just a scrawny Asian man with tortured seeming eyes. But in those eyes I also so strength and something else that I couldn't quite place.

When they closed the door, I sat up straight and straightened out my legs and crossed my ankles. I smiled up at them charmingly, trying to seem calm opposed to the anxious shit-fuck ball of nerves that I actually was.

He crouched on his knees a fair distance away from me and just stared. The man wore ripped and muddy jeans and a tight t-shirt. I noticed he wasn't as scrawny as I'd thought based on the muscles bulging through the black shirt. He stared at me coldly.

"Are you a Royal?" he asked like before.

I rolled my eyes. "No. I am in no way affiliated with whatever community, gang or musical group that is."

The man stood up. I really needed to find out his name. "Then who are you with?" He asked, his voice raised a notch louder.

"Nobody, anymore," I said with a shrug. I nodded towards the door. "You scared away my only comrade, and now here I am."

The man dropped his head and rubbed tiredly at his short black hair, then got to his feet. He walked to the edge of the room and pulled out the hand gun shoved down his pants. My entire body tensed, and I thought of what he wanted to hear. But after a dark glance at me over his shoulder, he placed the gun on the floor, then walked back to me.

That didn't make me feel safer.

"I am not going to kill you," he said to me, but again, I didn't feel safer. "But I will do worse to you if I have to... If you are a Royal, then I _will_ kill you. So tell me where the rest of your people are, or suffer the consequences," he told me coldly, but I could see right through his cold exterior. This man didn't want to hurt me, but I knew he would.

I sighed. "I told you—"

Then his closed fist smashed against the side of my face. "No, you lied. In this world, either you have people or you're already dead. So tell me where your people are!" He growled.

I knew how this would end: I would be in this cold empty room covered in my own bloody mess with a gun pointed at me. I knew this man would beat me until either I died, or he killed me. All because we both wanted to protect our own.

At least I could respect that before I died.

"_Carl!" _

_Carl ignored the raspy voice of his father behind him. He couldn't stand to look at him, unless it was to see the pain he'd inflicted on him. Rick couldn't see through his left eye, his throat was heavily bruised, his bottom lip was swollen to twice it's size, and half his face was purple. Carl had the swollen bloodied fist to prove it. _

"_Carl," he repeated again and he finally stopped and looked around to see Rick standing with Daryl, Tara and Michonne by his side. _

"_What?" He sneered, the grip on his sword tightening. _

_Daryl nodded his head to the side. "The tracks are tha' way," he grunted. Carl didn't say anything; he just went the way Daryl nodded and they were all on the move at an extremely quick pace._

_They all agreed that Beth and the baby needed protection just as much as Judith, so Abraham stayed, rather reluctantly too. Nevertheless, he understood why. _

_The rest of them were on the move with as many weapons as they could carry, each one overcome with fear and anger. But then there was Carl. He was angrier than everyone else, even Rick. And his hatred for his father at that point was nearly equal to his hatred for Terminus, but he intended to kill only the people of Terminus. _

_Michonne quickened her pace until she was ahead of the others and by Carl's side. "Hey," she said to get his attention. When Carl ignored her, she gripped at his arm and he turned to look at her dark and warning expression with a lowered chin and her full lips pressed tightly together. Then Carl looked back ahead, keeping his pace quick._

"_You need to stop," Michonne said and he knew she was talking about his attitude and not his pace. "You're angry. Anger makes people stupid. Stupid gets people killed."_

_Carl gritted his teeth but kept his mouth shut and stared straight ahead. All he thought about was Judith. The person he loved more than anyone else in the world was in danger. Probably dead. And the thought of that made his rage stronger. _

"_Don't be stupid."_

_As the long walk along the tracks went on, he told himself that. Michonne was right. _Don't be stupid,_ Carl thought, _For Judith.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

I lost track of how many. But based on the amount of blood that was drooling from my mouth and the lack of shit I could see through my eyes, I assumed he'd hit me a lot. His fists pushed me once or twice against the plumbing behind me so I think I had a concussion, but I could tell the two of us had been in here a long time.

Once again, the Asian man stood and walked towards the wall where he would turn his back to me and rub at his hand which was just as bruised as my face.

I laughed through the blood, sweat and reluctant tears. "Woe is you."

The man turned around and looked at me tiredly. There was torture in his eyes, but he blinked it away and strode towards me. His fingers curled around my shirt and he dragged me up to my feet with slight help from me, but it was hard with my hands chained to the pole behind my back.

He kept his grip on my shirt and pressed his other hand against the pole above my head. I could tell he was getting impatient, and I knew that my death was approaching.

"Tell me," he said with desperation in his tone, "Tell me, and this is all over: where are your people?"

I couldn't see all of him through my two swollen eyes, but I could still see the pain in his own. Even so I grinned and I knew he couldn't take his eyes away from my blood soaked teeth.

I would have spat blood on him if it weren't so cliche...

"Why?" I croaked. "So you can kill them, rape them and most likely eat them?" I growled. "I'd sooner have you kill me," I said with a proud smile. If I died at least I could know that Beth was safe.

Beth.

That was what really stopped me from slipping. My resistance was wearing thin long before, but the mere thought of harm coming to her and that baby... I would have taken ten times worse if it meant their safety. But even so, I couldn't take much more.

Then I think I saw him look insulted.

"I don't want to kill your people, unless they try and kill us."

"Then why do you want to know?" I snarled, then let another blob of blood fall down my chin from the corner of my mouth.

"Because I know you're a Royal!" He yelled, spit firing at me like bullets.

I would have rolled my eyes if it was physically possible. "I. Am. Not. A. Royal." I growled. "You. Ass."

The man let out a small cry of emotion for whatever he was going to do next. He leaned his lowered head close to my ear and I was surprised at how indifferent I felt towards his touch. _"I'm sorry_," he whispered, then walked back to the wall.

Without him holding me up, I fell to the floor and choked a little on my own blood. I turned my head to the side and coughed up more of it onto my shoulder, and I couldn't even see how much there was through my black and swollen eyes.

Then I looked up and saw he was right back in front of me, holding his gun. Looking up at him like that, I had never felt so powerless and pathetic. This is how I was going to die.

And then he raised his gun.

I saw his finger curl around the trigger slowly and noticed him guiltily look away.

I looked up into the barrel of the gun and then let the tears fall. I raised my chin proudly and stared into my fate because I was not scared and I was not a coward, and the only word to escape my lips in a broken whimper was "Daddy."


	24. Maggie and Glenn

**Author's Notes: **I'm lost... If so many of you people hate Judith, then why are you still reading this? And honestly, I think you're all being too hard on her. Just think about it from her perspective: she's a teenager who's lived her life in a shit storm of bad. Every stupid thing she's done has been to protect her family, and OF COURSE SHE HAS ISSUES WITH HER FATHER! To all the teens reading this, can you really say that you don't?

* * *

Chapter 24:

Maggie and Glenn

_Since Maggie watched Glenn walk into that room with that girl in it; since she looked into his eyes and saw that morbid reluctance in them, she had been pacing around their room. Every so often Maggie would walk up to the windows and look down into the floor of the warehouse, hoping to see Glenn walk out that metal door. _

_But she knew seeing him walk out that door would be seeing him with blood on his hands and more pain and guilt in his eyes. _

_She ran her fingers through her short greasy hair and slumped onto the messy mattress on the floor, tucking her head between her legs. Maggie stayed their sitting alone in her own guilt and empathy. _

"_Maggie," Glenn's weak voice breathed and she looked up. Glenn stood there with his hands shaking by the door, his right hand covered in blood and completely swollen. Maggie immediately stood up and walked over to him, her eyes locked on him while his stared down at the floor. _

_Pain._

_Maggie brought a hand to his cheek covered in cold sweat and he pulled it away, walking towards the opposite windows that looked down at the train tracks, just to keep away from her. This happened more and more. When things got worse and Glenn had to do worse things, he would punish himself and removing himself from the woman he loved was how._

_Maggie let her hand fall against her leg and watched him from across the room. "Is it done?" _

_Maggie watched the back of his head as Glenn lowered it and pressed his hand against the wall. "No." He lowered his hand and cradled it with his other. "I just... Needed a minute."_

_When he turned around she saw Glenn's hand shake even more as he closed it to a fist. It broke her heart. "I'll do it," Maggie told him._

"_No," he snapped and finally looked into her eyes._

"_Glenn—"_

"_No," he said again, only more insistently. His shoes against the concrete floor were loud as he walked up to her. "Maggie," he said with a broken voice and tightened lips. His hands cupped her equally cold sweated face and she looked back at him. "I can't let you do that. I won't let you do that."_

_Maggie's hands curled around his wrists and she looked at him. She didn't want to do it, but in knowing the alternative she felt she had to. The problem was that there was never any arguing with Glenn. "Fine," she forced herself to say. _

_Glenn gave her the saddest of smiles, then closed his eyes and kissed her on her forehead, then her lips._

_For a moment, she felt safe. _

"_I have to get back," he whispered, then gave her one last kiss. Glenn's wrists slipped from her fingers and he walked back towards that door with that girl in it._

I didn't know why, or what caused it, but I was still alive. The man lowered his gun, then stormed out of the room rubbing his head with entwined fingers.

It was then that I knew what kind of man he was: a good one. I hated what he had done to me, but it was his guilt that had me breathing. I knew what bad people could do and had experienced far worse. I'd get over it.

For now, I just needed to use this chance to escape, but I just didn't know how. It's not like I could pull a Merle and chop my hand off – I didn't have a knife, or I'd use it on him.

I read a spy book once and this guy got captured, but escaped because he kept a pair of tweezers in his sock. I was eight, and then I started doing it until Carl mocked me, so I took it out.

Thanks, Carl.

I snorted up the dripping snot from my nose, which included blood pouring from it and sweat. I wanted to wipe away the pathetic moment of tears that fell as well as removed the long thick strands of black hair from my face, but couldn't and it bugged me. Sort of like when you fall on your face and completely scab your knees, but then you get a paper cut between your fingers and all you can focus on is the paper cut.

I brought my slightly bony knees up to my chest and rested my chin against them. I pouted because my bottom lip was swollen, but I still licked it clean with my equally bloody tongue. "Ow," I sighed.

Oh, great. My left eye had officially closed and that was around the time the man came back into the room, looking cold as ice, which did not make me feel so safe. I thought maybe I was wrong – maybe he just needed a moment before pulling the trigger.

My swollen lips curled into a smirk that he probably couldn't make out. "Ready for round two?"

The man walked up to me, stared me down and showed no emotion. "In two hours, the sun will be down. I'm not going to kill you. Maybe in a day, something will change, and you'll rethink your tactics. IF you don't, then you'll be dead by tomorrow."

And with that he turned and walked away.

"You'll never do it," I said, but it wasn't mocking. It was just the truth. "I can see you," I coughed, then more blood dribbled down my chin. "The pain in your eyes," I got out but still choked on the word 'pain' from the blood. "If you kill me, then you'll die inside," I said then couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Then again, if you let me live, there's a chance you'll die."

He glanced at me with his hand on the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The door closed. I heard it lock and a shiver went down my spine about what awaited me tomorrow. But I refused to cry.

_It had been three hours since Maggie had last seen Glenn. She knew he needed to be alone so that's what she did. Instead, Maggie went to the courtyard where people were gathering for dinner, because she was supposed to help. _We all have jobs to do_, she told herself. _

_Sometimes, most of the time, that's what got Maggie through the day. _

_The courtyard already had half their people in it; women and their kids were sitting at the benches with umbrellas, while other children ran around laughing. There were no elders in their community, a few mothers who were still alive but mostly men. There were only a few babies, and a few teens. Now one more._

_Fortunately, Max jogged up to Maggie then halted in front of her. There was a bandage on the arch of his nose as well as bruising to his eyes. "Hey, Maggie," he said with his crooked smile. Maggie always liked the kid; so naive and full of hope despite everything. _

_But even so, Maggie couldn't bring herself to smile. He still smiled though, then twirled on his feet to her side and the two walked towards the barbecue stall where butchered pig was now cooking. It was her job to cut up the vegetables and roast them. _

_She was hoping for silence, but that wasn't an option with Max. "So about that girl..."_

_Maggie stopped, drew in a sharp breath and looked at him._

_He cracked an awkward smile to remove the tension. "I was jus' wondering, um... is she alive?"_

_Of all the things..._

_Maggie and Glenn discussed all community issues with each other, and everyone dealt with it, or left. But there was still a code of honesty among everyone. _

"_We're keeping her locked in the warehouse."_

_His shoulders sunk a bit, but he still smiled hopefully. "So she's still alive."_

"_Yes."_

"_Good, good," he sighed like he was holding his breath too. "I mean, not that she's locked in the warehouse, but that she's alive," he shook his head, "Not that she, y'know... _shouldn't_ be locked away or nothin', jus'..."_

_Maggie grinned despite how morbidly she'd been feeling. "It's okay, Max," Maggie said then kept heading towards the grill, hoping this conversation had ended._

_But Max kept at her heels. "So, um..." He literally hopped in front of her so she was facing him. "What are you gonna do with her?"_

_Maggie wasn't one to steer away from serious situations. That was most of her life. Since she met Glenn. _

"_Glenn interrogated her yesterday. If she doesn't give up her group's location by tonight, then," she sighed and slid her hands into her jean's pockets, "We'll kill her."_

_Max wasn't smiling, anymore. _

_Maggie nodded towards the grill. "Let's go eat."_

I didn't have much else to do besides rethink my entire life. Every single teaching moment I had with Daryl, every bonding moment I had with Carl and every perfect moment I had with Dad. But the perfect moments with Dad ended after I was twelve.

Once again, thank you Carol.

Abraham told me once that when people found themselves facing death, they'd think about all their regrets. But in our world, death was quick and there wasn't much time to think about anything. Abraham told me if he had any regrets, it would be his first two marriages. Then he chuckled at that.

I would have smiled at the memory, too, if I could move the other half of my face. So instead I swallowed down the extra blood. It was hard because most of it was dried up and so was my throat. I hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast yesterday. And I hadn't had water since me and Dad were at the car.

With memories of Dad creeping up on me, I found myself desperate for a distraction, and I got one.

I sat there on my numb ass and raised my aching kneecaps. The thing that hurt most was my leg which still had a hole through it from the arrow, but at least the man had wrapped something around it to lessen the bleeding. Overnight, my left eye had completely swollen shut, but I could still see through the other one meaning I could see when that scrawny looking teenager with the broken nose slid through the small crack in the door. All I could think, other than the fact that I feared my face was gonna get another beating, was why the hell he didn't open the door further.

He leaned against the door with his butt to close it, then looked down at me, smiled awkwardly and said "Hi."

I stared at him.

He stared down at his fiddling hands then made the choice to walk closer. "...Max."

It was because of the thudding in my ears (to which I didn't know why) that I didn't hear what he said. "What?"

"Max," he stuttered, "My name is—is Max..." The corner of his mouth quirked into a brief smile.

I cocked a brow. In my mind. Because I couldn't physically raise my brow. "Are you here to hurt me?" I asked, sounding as amused as I felt. The dude didn't seem like the fighting type.

He looked back down at his fiddling fingers, then smirked down at me, now less than five meters away from me. "Why, because you broke my nose, and therefore deserve to have your nose broken?"

I grinned. "Oops."

Max's eyes narrowed down on me, but then he cracked a smile.

I looked up at him coldly and raised my chin. "What do you want?"

"Uh..." He stared at me with blinking eyes, clearly flustered, "Ooh!" He dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty rag. He thrusted it in front of him and I couldn't resist sitting up. My mouth would have watered if it wasn't so dry.

"Now," he began, sounding all formal, "If I give this to you, you're not gonna do something stupid and attack me, right?"

I tried cocking a brow again. "Stupid? Me?" I snorted. "Nah, that's not really my thing," I said in a raspy voice with a sarcastic shrug.

He started down at me narrowly, unconvinced.

I shrugged again. "Look, my love for food at this point is bigger than my hatred for you," I said.

He frowned. "Okay, so compliments really aren't your thing, either, are they?"

I just forced a smile on my face and focused on the grilled meat and carrots as it got closer and closer to me. I wasn't one to depend on people for anything, but I knew for sure that depending on this guy would be something I wouldn't regret.

Food. What a final luxury before dying.


	25. My name is Judith

**Author's Notes: **So this chapter is important-at least more important than it seems. You'll want to read it to the end, because it explains some things about Carol. And explains Judith's relationship with Rick. Thought that might be appreciated.

* * *

Chapter 25:

My name is Judith

_As the night drew on, the group walked further down the tracks. After about four hours, they had to stop, if only for a moment. The only people unwilling were Carl and Rick. That gave Rick time to talk to his son. With everyone sitting in a group and Carl on point, he had no chance to leave the conversation. He just stood there, looking out into the woods with his sword in his hand and his sherif's hat on his head. _

_Rick stood next to him, staring out into the woods just like his son. As Carl had grown, he'd come to look more and more like his father. Judith said it was all in the eyes. They were both cold and empty, but still heartbroken. _

_Everything the Grimes boys had lost, they lost together._

_Even Judith._

"_You gonna apologise?" Rick asked, but it wasn't exactly a question. For a moment Rick thought he wouldn't, but eventually Carl cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, Dad."_

_Dad._

_One of the things Rick would never get tired of hearing._

_Carl shuffled his feet, rolling a pebble underneath his shoe; a habit he didn't drop as he got older. "I just..." Carl shrugged, looking at the floor, shaking his head. "I know it couldn't have been your fault." He gave a weak and bitter laugh, and Rick could feel a pain in his chest from that. "I mean, knowing Judith... She probably did something stupid, I guess..." He muttered._

_Rick shuffled his own feet, glancing down at them before looking back into the open woods. "No. She didn't do anything stupid. Judith was brave." _

_Carl looked at his father, hopeful with the words. He would have smiled if he had it in him. The two men stood in silence, until his father slowly and hesitantly extended his hand and placed it on Carl's shoulder. Rick couldn't bring himself to smile either._

"_You would have been proud of your sister."_

_Carl turned his body and looked him in the eyes, allowing Rick's hand to be there. "Were you?"_

_Rick didn't say anything. At least not to Carl. His hand gave a gentle pat, then dropped to his side before raising his bow from over his shoulder. "Let's go!"_

I'd had food and water. I couldn't ask for anything more, let alone that to begin with. Especially for an enemy like me. But that was... I don't know how long ago. But the sun had officially gone down; awhile ago, actually.

Now he sat in front of me with his legs crossed like a little kid at story time with his broad shoulders hunched and his hands entwined. Me? I sat in yet another slight variation as before. There weren't many options for me.

He smiled warmly at me. "I wish I could unchain you, but I don't have the keys," he said. I found it strange how genuine he sounded. "And also, I'm not as dumb as I seem."

I smirked, looking down into my hands. I was no longer seeing double, like before. Then I looked up into his eyes. They were a chocolate brown. Max's eyes were warm and kind with this hopeful naivety in them.

"You shouldn't be here," I told him.

Only a smidgeon of that hope disappeared from those round, wide eyes. "Aw, I thought we were getting along," he joked, but switched to serious after I gave him a look. "I guess... I guess I do stupid things sometimes," he said with a shrug and a smile slowly curled onto my lips. He noticed. "What?"

"Somethin' you and I have in common, I suppose," I grunted. The throbbing in my lip hurt more and more every time I talked.

Pain.

Right... I'm a prisoner. He's the enemy – no, I am.

My smile disappeared and I stared at him coldly. "You should leave," I told him, but it sounded more like an order. How ironic for a prisoner.

He stared down into his hands, before grimacing up at me. "Why?"

"You're just a kid," I said, knowing we were about the same age. "If your people knew you were talking to the _enemy, _they'd be pissed. I'll be beaten even more, and you..." I trailed off. I had no real clue what the people here were capable of. Not even to their own.

He just shook his head. "The people here are good. I know that's hard to see from where you are—"

"Well, yeah; there aren't any windows," I joked slightly.

He just stared at me, then after a chilling moment, his stare became cold and sad. "Are you a Royal?"

I groaned. "What the hell is a Royal?!"

His eyes narrowed on me. "Are you telling me that a skinny bitch like you survived without any people?" He cocked a brow and I noticed the mole by his brow, which suited him. "What about that dude you were with?"

My stare became colder than his at the mentioning of my father. "That was the only person I was with. We came here to see if you would take us in," I widened my eyes angrily, though I really wasn't. "Next thing I know, we're being shot at, my guy makes a run for it and I have an arrow in my leg."

He looked at me with innocent fluttering eyes. "Oh yeah, sorry about that," he said through his innocent full-lipped smile.

Oh. How did I not realise that he's the one who shot me?

I glared at him.

Max rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll go," he said and hopped to his feet. I liked him: he hopped... Regardless of the fact that I have a painful hole in my leg from where he'd shot an arrow into.

Max had his hand reaching for the doorknob when he dropped it to his side. He spun on his feet and stared at me with a crooked smile. "Hey... What's your name?"

I smiled back at him as best I could. It was genuine, too. I didn't think I'd ever smile like that again due to my inevitable fate. "You know, when you give a name to things, you get attached," I told him, then my genuine smile became a weaker one. "Tomorrow, I'll be dead. You shouldn't know my name."

His smile was gone and I knew I'd hurt him somehow, but even so his eyes were filled with that hope. I'd never seen eyes like that before. "Fine," he said, then leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. His chunky boots made that more difficult to do because of the grip.

I swallowed hard.

He shrugged his shoulder and smiled at me. "Then I'm staying until you tell me." He gave a weak laugh. "Or until you die," he joked, then stopped smiling and stared down at the floor awkwardly before looking back to me. "Sorry, that wasn't funny..."

I gave him a weak smile and shrugged. "It kinda was..."

Max grinned and for a moment I forgot the pain.

_Glenn didn't go see Maggie when he left that girl in that room. Instead he sat at the edge of their bed with his head between his legs, gripping at his shaggy black hair. _

_Glenn was too sick to eat. Too broken to face the community. Too weak to even look at Maggie. _

_Glenn thought back seventeen years ago to the farm. He still remembered that kid Randall; the one Shane killed. Glenn knew this was the same situation, only now he was the leader: people looked to him because their lives were in his hands. Glenn thought about what Rick would do, and what Dale would say. He thought about Hershel and his opinion, but all roads led back to Rick._

_What would Rick do?_

_Glenn's fists tightened with his hair tangled in his fingers and he groaned. _

_Rick would have gone through all the options, and ended at his last conclusion. For all Glenn knew, if that had worked, he and Maggie could have died a long time ago. He couldn't let the girl go. She could still be a Royal, but she didn't seem like the type. If she was lying; if she had people, they could come here and kill them all. Terminus had a lot of people, and a lot of guns with ammo. He had people. An army. But Glenn couldn't risk the girl's group being bigger. _

_Glenn knew what he would have to do: kill her._

"_Having some trouble?" Maggie asked gently from the doorway. The sound of her beautiful voice comforted him greatly. _

_He clapped his hands together and dragged his eyes away from the floor. "I have to kill her, Maggie."_

_She stared down at him with concern, but he knew she felt as much weight on her shoulders as he did. He hated she did. _

_Maggie slowly walked up to him. She pressed her cool hands against his cheeks and stood between his legs and he craned his neck to look up at her. "Do you?"_

_Glenn frowned in confusion. "How can you say that?" He croaked._

_She stroked her thumb over his lips and stared into his tortured eyes. "It's not us."_

_Glenn wraps his hands around her waist. "What else am I supposed to do?"_

"_I don't know," she said, then lowered herself to her knees. She pressed her forehead against his and the two closed their eyes. "It's just not us..."_

_Glenn's eyes squeezed shut before looking into her green eyes. "But we've all got jobs to do. Right?"_

"_Right."_

Max stared at me from across the room with his arms and his ankles crossed. The pain hadn't gotten any better – physically – but the idea of dying was distracted by him.

"You know," I said then swallowed hard and painfully from my dry throat. "When I got here, you asked me three questions."

"Mm?"

I leaned my head against the pole, staring at him through the slit in my one good eye. "What's your answer?"

I noticed Max stiffen, and he sat up. The boy pulled his legs up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them after tugging at red flannel shirt he was wearing over his black shirt. "What's the first question?"

I sat up, too. "How many walkers have you killed?"

He chewed at his thick bottom lip. "Not as many as you," he said with a small smile. He pointed at me for a brief moment. "Two thousand's impressive," he said then frowned. "How are you still alive?"

I wouldn't be for much longer.

Max coughed awkwardly when the tension became obvious, but as I've come to observe, he did his characteristic shrug and smile. "Um... Well, I work on patrol, and before I came here..." He trailed off in calculation. "Five hundred?" He smirked. "Give or take, a few."

I bobbed my head. "Huh," I said, rather impressed with his record.

He raised his hands in defense. "I mean, it's no _thousand_, but..." He joked and grinned.

I raised my chin, knowing how horrible the next question was to answer.

"How many people have you killed?"

I saw him noticeably flinch. Max's smile was gone. "None."

I pressed my lips together before asking "Why?"

Max frowned a frown of concern and nodded towards me. "I think your answer would be more interesting."

I mimicked his position and brought my legs up against my chest, only I couldn't wrap my arms around them. "I said: self defense."

He blinked. "Say more."

I'd never been in this situation before: everyone I'd known already knew everything about me, and everything that'd happened to me. They were all there.

I'd realised now in this moment that I wanted someone else to know. Or maybe I just wanted him to know.

"Well," I began, and said all of the rest with painful swallows in my swollen throat. "The person I killed... She was a good person – I mean, in the end she wasn't, but that was just her last moments. The woman I killed took care of me as a kid. She was like an aunt to me."

"Why'd she try and kill you?"

I stared past him at the door. Looking at him was harder than I thought when I was thinking about this. "She said she was doing the right thing. For the sake of the group... She said we were going to check the snares when our group had temporarily migrated into the woods. But, um, when I went to check the snares, I heard her cock her gun.

She told me I was weak. That I would never make it in the group, and my weakness would get everyone killed."

Max let go of his legs and leaned closer.

I smiled, staring at him for a moment. "By that age, I had killed more walkers than Bet—than my mom," I said. Beth would be a secret. She'd have to be. "But we were in a war. There were bad people that threatened what we had, but I could never pull the trigger. I just... I couldn't kill someone," I smirked and looked at Max again. "She considered that weakness."

"So then what happened?"

I shrugged. "A lot happened. She said things, I said things. I kept repeating that she was wrong. I kept saying it, over and over again... I was lying to myself. I was weak, and I couldn't do it. But she wasn't right," I said and swallowed. My eyes started to get watery and I didn't know if it was from emotional pain, or physical.

I let my head fall back against the pole. "I wasn't weak. I _could_ kill people if it meant my life was in danger, or my family's. When a walker came at us, she was distracted and I managed to get the gun off her," I blinked away tears. "I didn't even hesitate when I pulled the trigger."

Max didn't say anything; neither of us did. I don't know how long the silence went on for, but I was okay with it. With Max in the room, I felt safe. Like I could trust him – just not with my life, or my family's.

Max just stared at me with unblinking eyes. Even through the pain in them, I could still see the hopefulness. I could feel that hope.

"I'm sorry."

I gave him a bitter smile. "Me too," I said, and the next part just slipped out. "You know, my father wouldn't even look at me after that dat."

"What?"

I squeezed my one eye shut and I knew there would be a new stain of tears among the blood. "After I killed her, I couldn't leave her side. For hours I just stayed there, cradling her and wanting her to be not dead... My Dad's the one who found us." My eyes stung, and more tears fell.

"What did he do?"

I forced myself to swallow. "I walked over to him and reached my arms out for his touch," I croaked. "He actually backed away from me." I sniffed, wanting to wipe my nose. "He looked at me like I was a monster; like I was evil..."

At that moment, things went silent again, and I looked to Max. I had never seen someone feel so much empathy, before. There were tears building up in Max's doe eyes, and a single tear fell down his cheek.

I coughed awkwardly, and tried to stop crying. "Since that day, our relationship was ruined," I said, then my one eye darted up to look at Max, and I added coldly, "Up until the day he died," I said. Good to keep his existence a secret.

I didn't know I would feel anything, but I ended up feeling guilt over lying to Max. I saw his eyes had stopped watering, and he wiped away the tear on his cheek with his sleeve.

I swallowed hard and leaned my head back against the pole. "Look," I said, "I know I'm an idiot, sometimes... I do stupid shit and I don't use my head," I confessed. "But at least by the end of the day I can say that I'd done everything I could to protect the people I love," I laughed weakly. "At least I can say I am not weak."

Then Max did something weird. He got onto his knees, and I thought for a moment he was about to stand and leave me – had I slipped up? But Max didn't leave. He quickly shuffled over to me. He sat up directly in front of me so the kneecaps of our crossed legs were touching. Max reached over and I flinched instantly, but I didn't have to. He tucked a long tangled piece of black hair behind my ear and kept his hand cupped on my cheek.

He dropped it, but didn't move away from me.

Then another thing slipped from between my bloodied, swollen lips. I knew this was stupid of me, but this time, I didn't care.

"My name's Judith."


	26. We all have jobs to do

Chapter 26:

We all have jobs to do

"_Um... Everyone! I have to, uh, tell you something," Glenn called out as he stood in front of the grill looking out at the people gathered around the tables. People had finished eating and were now doing their whole bonding over coffee thing, minus the coffee. _

_With Maggie by his side, he spoke. "Earlier today two outsiders broke into Terminus."_

_The murmurs among the people started._

"_One of them escaped, but we have the other one here," Maggie said. She looked like herself; cool and stoic, but with a heart of gold. Glenn couldn't show emotion, or he'd break. _

"_Are they still alive?" One of the women asked. She was a skinny brunette in he twenties with a large mass of brown curls who sometimes manned the entrance. Her name was Mandy. _

_Glenn raised his chin. "Yes," he said simply._

"_Why the hell ain't they dead yet?" She sneered, and Maggie noticed the way Glenn gritted his teeth. _

"_Because we don't know for sure why she is here," Maggie growled, and he could tell she was more irked by the woman than he was. _

"_She?" Mandy repeated, then snorted. "No wonder she got caught..."_

_Maggie chewed at her lip, and Glenn spoke instead. "The girl is a teenager, but she's tough. After... interrogating her, I still do not know what she came here for."_

_Then another person spoke up. A familiar drunk man in a dirty wifebeater shirt. "She a Royal?"_

_Glenn stared at him a long time, swallowing hard. "I don't know." When Glenn stared down at his hand which he began to flex, people noticed it was swollen and covered in blood and scratches. _

_More murmurs started._

"_She's not a Royal," the drunk said with a strong Irish accent. People called him many things: the drunk, the asshole, Dude, but most called him Doc. To this day, no one knew his real name. _

_Maggie frowned. "How d'you know that?"_

_Doc chuckled slightly to himself and slumped onto the table, putting his booted feet up on the seats. "For starters, she didn't tell you she was... You know of any Royals who can hold out that blimin' long?" Glenn and Maggie waited, knowing there'd be more. " The code of the Royals is mostly pride. Not loyalty. If that little darling with a mildly irksome personality was a Royal, she'd be not only admitting it, but shouting it from rooftops."_

_Glenn frowned. "Unless she values her life."_

"_Hm..." Doc looked up out the corner of his eyes in contemplation. "Nope. I can tell," he said with a smile through his scruffy facial hair._

_Mandy gave him a snide look over her shoulder. "Didn't the bitch shoot you?"_

_His smile naturally left this face, and he shrugged a brow. "I consider that foreplay."_

"_Alright," Glenn said with a mild grimace and a dismissing wave of his hand "I think Doc may be right about the girl not being a Royal."_

_Maggie gently held onto Glenn's arm and took a small step forward. "We think she has her own people somewhere around here."_

_Glenn nodded. "These people could be dangerous. They could want what we have, and try and take it."_

_Mandy snorted rudely again. "Please... If the girl had a community, don't you think she'd scouted the place out with more people? Can't be that many members, then..." Mandy smiled arrogantly. "We could take 'em."_

_Other than the fact that Mandy was extremely unlikeable, she had a point. Glenn bobbed his head. "That is true, but if that happens, the man who escaped will be getting his people ready."_

_Maggie spoke up again. "We are here in front of you for two reasons," she looked over towards the table surrounded with the main guards. "We want people surrounding the fence 24/7 until this all blows over."_

"_What's the second reason?" Someone else called out._

_Maggie glanced at Glenn first. "This girl is a liability. We cannot trust her to let go, or keep with us... By tomorrow, we will kill her. For the safety of Terminus," she said, and felt Glenn's hand reach for hers. _

_Everyone went completely quiet. It was an uneasy tension among everyone because the majority of them all felt the same way. That it was wrong to kill someone. Especially a teenaged girl. But for the safety of Terminus... _

"_But you can't," someone said and all eyes turned to Max. He stood at the back like he'd just arrived with his hands stiffly by his side and concern in his eyes. For once he wasn't awkward. _

_What would Rick do? Glenn nodded and said, "Speak your mind, Max."_

"_She's just a kid. And she's a good person! With the same baggage as all of us," he said to everyone. "It's not her fault she arrived during a war!"_

"_But we can't risk it," Maggie said and Glenn could see the guilt in her expression. "I mean, she's a stranger..."_

_Max gave a bitter snort. "So was I, but you accepted me." He shrugged, making a moderately flamboyant gesture with his arms. "Why, because I came through the front entrance, I'm safe?" _

_Mandy turned her body around, now to look at Max and give him a sneer. "You're defending the bitch who broke your nose?"_

_Max glared at her momentarily, then gestured to Doc. "Foreplay." Then Max gave her a more narrow glare before looking back to Glenn and Maggie with those hopeful and naive eyes. _

_Like there was a chance._

_He smiled brightly. Hope. "She could be one of us!"_

_Maggie's grip around Glenn's hand tightened and he gave her a comforting squeeze. He knew she was remembering the same thing he was: it was Randall all over again, and Max was the new Dale. _

_Maggie's free hand wrapped around her stomach. "I wouldn't feel safe. None of us would."_

_Max frowned in confusion. "Do we ever feel safe?" His brown eyes went wide as his enthusiasm kicked in. "Come on!" He hopped up and down like a kid for a second. "If you knew what Judith's been through, you'd never even consider killing her for a second!"_

_Glenn's hand slipped out of Maggie's and her heart sank. She pressed her fingers against her forehead and shut her eyes while Glenn took the charge. "You know her name?"_

_Max didn't shrivel away like a coward. He looked back into Glenn's eyes sternly. "Yeah. She told me."_

_Glenn pressed his lips tightly together, and stared back at Max. Then he took Max by the arm and headed away from the courtyard towards the warehouse with Maggie by his side._

I was alone again. And I was okay with it. I guess the fact that I was going to die hadn't truly sunk in yet. And that was the truth: I was going to die. But even so, I wasn't afraid, because some naive part of me thought I wasn't—like I would get out of it somehow.

Then I realised something.

Either I could spend my last moments alive accepting my fate and thinking about the good things and the regrets, or I could spend that time fighting. The fighting thing seemed more my style, regardless of the fact that I could barely move my right leg and my face was so beaten to shit, I couldn't even see through both eyes anymore. And my arm was still in pain, but at least it was a... blunter pain than the rest.

I laughed bitterly. "Don't be such a pussy," I told myself and Daryl came to mind. Then I grinned because if I got out of this, then I could tell Daryl that we both had been impaled by an arrow. Cool.

Daryl.

No, I couldn't let myself think about that if I wanted to keep fighting. Memories make people emotional. Emotions make people weak, and I didn't have that luxury. So I didn't think about the memories, but there was one person that came to mind and I couldn't help it.

Max.

I didn't realise I was smiling at the thought of him, and I shook it away. But then I had a thought. Maybe I could use him, somehow. Maybe he could help me escape. I guess you can't help who you trust. It just happens.

"_Ow, hey – watch the shirt!" Max grunted and Glenn shoved him away when they got into the wide, open spaced warehouse. They were the only people in there. "What?" Max asked with wide, anxious eyes. _

_Glenn stared at him with his hands on his hips and cold, angry eyes. "How did you know her name?"_

_The realisation that he'd slipped up was noticeable on his face. He tapped the tips of his fingers together nervously and glanced down at his shoes. "Um... She told me," Max said through squinting eyes like it was a daunting suggestion. _

_Glenn gritted his teeth. "You talked to the prisoner?" _

_Max stood tall for Judith's sake. "Yes. I did." He raised his index finger momentarily. "And I'm not bragging or anything, but I did learn more in twenty minutes than you did in like five hours without my hand swelling up afterwards," he said with a quick smile as to lighten the mood. In which it did not._

"_What else did you learn?" Glenn asked sounding a little desperate because despite himself, he saw a way out._

_Max scoffed. "I'm not telling you jack-shit," he said, folding his arms tightly across his chest stubbornly. _

_Glenn frowned at him in confusion over his logic. "Then she'll die."_

_Max remained quiet, conflicted by his choices. The choice turned out to be easy. "She isn't a Royal."_

"_How can you be sure?"_

_Max rolled his eyes. "She isn't! I can... I can _see_ her," he told Glenn, and the naivety in him showed. "She's tough and brave and loyal... I know she's a good person," Max said with a smile curling onto his lips, unaware that he was actually smiling. Then he shrugged. "She's also a bit of a snarky jackass, but worth keeping alive."_

_Glenn forced himself to remain logical; to ignore the emotion in this decision. "I meant more like if you found out about her people."_

_Max noticeably blushed. "Oh." Then Max looked into Glenn's chilling eyes anxiously. "But I could find out."_

_Glenn's teeth clenched even more that his jax flexed. "No."_

_Max made a suggestive hand gesture. "Just hear me out—"_

"_No."_

_Maggie then finally spoke up. "Do it." She looked to Glenn. "We've all got jobs to do. Right?"_


	27. Lie

Chapter 27:

Lie

Honestly, it felt good to be alone. But it felt better when Max showed up. He slid through the crack of the door he opened, then closed it with his butt. "Hi," he said with a weak smile.

I didn't say anything. Something in the last hour happened and now it hurt to talk. So the 'hi' was implied and not worth saying. Nor was it worth smiling with a swollen lip and cut up cheek.

Max started pacing nervously, running a hand through his slightly curly and floppy black hair. His pacing quickened, then he stopped looked at me and opened his mouth with the small mole by it to say something. Then he shut it and kept pacing in front of me.

I watched as he once again stopped, looked at me to say something then returned to his pacing.

Huh.

Then he swung around on his heels and walked up to me. "Okay, here's the thing."

I raised my chin to stare up at him through my one good eye. My god, I must look gorgeous.

He froze when he stared down at me with his mouth still hanging open with wide eyes for a long moment before tapping his fingertips together nervously again. "I don't want you to die."

My brow furrowed. "Gee, thanks."

Max's eyes narrowed down on me. "You know, people in your situation don't really have the opportunity to be sarcastic."

I shrugged. "Then I guess I'm screwed."

Max went quiet and became extremely awkward when he considered sitting down. I knew he was going through this contemplation because of the way he mid-sat down, then mid-sat up, then kinda collapsed on his folded legs.

He noticed me staring with obvious judgement then raised his brow. "What?"

I continued to look at him with judgement. "This is the part where I would say something sarcastic."

His eyes narrowed. "Resist that urge," he said, then grinned widely.

I wasn't aware of how long he'd been in this room with me, and I don't think he did either. For like two hours we'd talked about everything from comic books he liked, to books I liked to our most impressive kills to our most impressive injuries. I had a long list of battle scars to choose from whereas his was the small scar on his thigh. Max got it after accidentally stabbing himself in the leg when he didn't holster his knife.

Max was leaning against the wall across from me with his leg bent and his arm draping over it. "Okay, here's a question," he said and looked at me with one dramatically wide eye.

I raised my chin. "Shoot."

"How did your parents die?"

I gave him a look and he shrugged sadly. "Everyone our age is an orphan," Max said, "What happened to yours?"

I heard the word orphan and felt a pang in my chest. I told myself it was from the hole in my leg, but it clearly wasn't. Max was an orphan and I still had a dad. And Beth and Daryl. I had more than he ever would, but I could never tell him the truth.

At least not all of it.

"I never knew my mom. She died when I was born..." I gave him a sad smile in response to let him know I was okay with it, because I was. I looked into his eyes, irked, expecting to see sympathy, but I didn't, for once. I just saw pain.

I saw him swallow hard, glancing down at his shoes before looking back at me.

"And your dad?" He asked me with a grimace.

My eyes (or eye) darted up to him and every inch of my body tingled. Hm. Guess my spidey-sense was tingling... As far as he knew, my Dad was dead, right? So now all I gotta do is come up with a lie.

Lie.

I waited a long time, probably looking at him with some sort of iciness in my eye, but it wasn't intended. I just didn't want to lie to him. But I was going to – I really and truly was but when I opened my mouth to speak, I was cut off by the sound of gun fire.

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**Author's Notes: **Okay, short chapter, I know, but I like short chapters. Besides if I did long chapters more often, you'd be expecting it all the time (She wrote with a snarky smile). By the way, watch Little Miss Sunshine if you haven't already. It's awesome.

Review. You guys have been really great with that lately. I'm honored.


	28. Hope is stronger than fear

**Author's Notes: **So... this could be considered an important chapter. But I hate spoilers, so read on. Oh, man, I'm excited!

* * *

Chapter 28:

Hope is stronger than fear

_Carl and Rick remained silent and stoic with cold, calculating expressions, but Daryl could see the vulnerability in their eyes; he knew it all too well within himself. _

_So did Beth._

_Daryl's heart made an involuntary leap at the thought of Beth. Leaving her was near impossible, but it was Judith. And he loved Lil' Asskicker as much as he loved his unborn child. Daryl would die for her anytime, any day. Hell, he couldn't think of a better way to die than for someone he loved. That was what Daryl and Judith both believed, and that would be the death of them both – and they knew it._

_Only Lil' Asskicker didn't have a child on the way that he needed to protect. He had to be there for the baby, and the thought that he wouldn't terrified him; made him afraid. It made him weak._

_So when the group reached the fence to Terminus in the dead of night, and talked of their game plan barely above a whisper, when they all climbed over the fence without so much as the sound of their tip-toeing feet against the pavement, Daryl had to keep telling himself "Don't be such a pussy." _

_Yet another thing both he and Judith believed. Never be a pussy; never be afraid. _

_Daryl, with his crossbow raised and his legs slightly bent, looked to Rick for the nod. The nod that meant to keep moving, and where to go. They all silently ran to the wall of the warehouse with Rick leading them. He and Carl were at the front with Daryl behind them as backup. Tara and Michonne left a meter long gap between them with their backs to them as the real backup. Michonne and Daryl were not only the best killers in the group, but the quietest. In this situation, they were the most valuable. _

_This is why Daryl had to force Beth out of his mind. If he was to think about anyone, it would be Merle: the one who made him a dick, but kept him alive no matter what. _

_Just think Merle._

_..._

_Glenn stared at Maggie with a look of confusion and what Maggie construed at betrayal. She had defied him. _

_Maggie just stared back at him with indifference and shook her head. "I'm not going to apologise," she said, folding her cold and clammy arms over her chest._

_His head just slowly shook in response, emphasizing his anger and her betrayal before walking past her away from the metal door towards the metal stairs. It led to a platform to their bedroom that overlooked the entire warehouse as well as the outside of the fence. _

_Maggie sighed tiredly and watched as Glenn marched/trotted up the stairs with his black combat boots clunking as he did. She contemplated leaving Glenn alone with his thoughts, but at that moment all she could see was that look he gave her. Maggie trotted up the stairs after him and he could hear her coming. It was kind of hard not to. _

_..._

_Just think like Merle._

_They all leaned flat against the wall in a line and quietly came closer to the garage door. Everyone here already knew this place, and being back was painful for them. They lost people here, and Daryl couldn't lose anymore. He was tired of losing people._

_'Come on, Darlina," Merle's voice echoed in Daryl's mind. Already, he found himself irked. 'You afraid of a little danger? Didn't think Beth had the balls in the r'lationship.'_

_Daryl's heartbeat thudded in himself and his grip on his crossbow tightened. _Shut up, Merle_, Daryl thought to himself. He could picture the cocky smirk curl on his ugly face. 'C'mon. Do somethin', little brother... Or are you jus' gonna clutch your purse behind this wall?' Daryl's hand gripped on his crossbow even tighter, but he was getting to himself. They had to do something. He growled quietly to himself and tapped the tip of his locked arrow against Rick's sweaty shoulder._

_Rick's cold and calculating face looked over his shoulder to him. He raised a halting hand to Daryl and the rest of the group, then leaned close. He was so quiet, they could barely hear him. "None in the warehouse, Michonne, how many 'round back?"_

_She said nothing, just morbidly shook her head._

_None in the warehouse; too many round back. Daryl knew they could maybe take them._

_Rick glanced quickly and broodingly at all of them before lowering his voice another notch. "We can take 'em. Michonne and Tara, you stay out here – keep a lookout. Be ready to run if things go South," Rick said then looked to Carl. "You're the only one who's been in the warehouse, before," Rick said and his eyes looked down quickly to the scar on his face. "You lead the charge – if these people are still holding Judith, she'll be held in there," he continued and Daryl remained quiet. _

_Think Merle._

"_Daryl, keep behind me and Carl; cover us if necessary," Rick said to him and Daryl nodded in acceptance. This was Rick's plan. He knew what he was doing. _

_Rick looked to them all with dark and intense eyes, and Rick saw the anxious sweat dripping from the tip of his slightly crooked nose. "Everyone, keep an eye out and keep your weapons ready. Kill on sight," he ordered and Daryl tried to think back to the time when the man held a gun to his head and said 'we don't kill the living'. _

_..._

_Maggie didn't bother shutting the door behind her because there was no one to hear them with everybody together in the courtyard. She slowed her steps when she saw Glenn's back with his hands on his hips as he stared out the windows to the tracks. Their eyes met through the reflection of the window, black from the night sky._

"_We both know how this is going to end," Glenn said and his jaw clenched at the words. So did Maggie's. _

"_Maybe not."_

_Glenn gave off a small, bitter laugh and turned around. It would have been amusing to outside viewers. "How could you think that?" Glenn frowned. "We find out she has people, we kill her." Maggie flinched and Glenn noticed. "We don't, we kill her anyways for good measure."_

"_Glenn," Maggie started with an even tone as she walked closer to him. She stopped, leaving a gap between them. "She has a name."_

_Glenn's parted lips pressed together and Maggie saw the further clenching of his jaw._

_Maggie didn't know what else to say. Her point was made with those simple words. You never give something a name if you can't afford to get attached. Never name an outsider, never name the pigs you slaughter, or you won't be able to._

_Her point was made. "...The girl has a name..."_

_Maggie thought they were still in yet another intense and quiet moment where epiphanies strike, but apparently not. Because when she said that Glenn cocked his head and frowned at the air in front of him. "A name..." he muttered to himself. Maggie's brow raised in surprise and confusion when he started rifling around his desk by the door. _

"_Glenn?" _

_He stopped his rifling, straightened his back and looked at her. "When she was brought into the interrogation room, you took off her jacket," he said, looking for confirmation. _

_She nodded slowly, making the look of her confusion on her face more obvious. _

_He looked back to the desk, looking under the discarded clothes at an unnecessary speed. "I remember you throwing it somewhere in here."_

_Maggie folded her arms. "Yeah, in case there was a knife in it, or somethin'."_

_He smacked his hand on the pale wood of the desk in frustration and looked elsewhere around the room, past Maggie. "Where did you put it?"_

_Maggie thrusted her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the closed leather chest against the left wall. It held their personal effects; things from their past like Hershel's pocket watch, as well as assorted weapons for cases of emergencies. _

_Naturally._

_Glenn clicked his fingers, then manoeuvred around Maggie towards it where Maggie's leather jacket, as well as the prisoner's was. _

"_Glenn!" Maggie hissed impatiently, still waiting for that explanation. _

_Glenn didn't ignore her, but did practically lunge for the jacket. Of course, he would never ignore his wife. "Earlier today, I saw something poking out of the pocket," he said._

_Maggie's brow furrowed. She could have sworn there were no knives in there._

"_A photo," Glenn continued. He crumpled up the worn leather in his hands and yanked at it. "I didn't think much of it – I only saw it's back, but—" With his index finger and thumb, he pulled it out and held it close to his face, studying the photo Maggie couldn't properly see. _

_She watched with a lump in her throat as she saw Glenn's eyes widen and stop blinking. She saw his chest raise as his breath caught. There were a lot of quiet moments in their world, but none were a torturously silent as this one. _

_His hands started shaking with the photo clenched in his grasp and his breathing grew heavy. Glenn remained still and unmoving, then immediately headed for the stairs. Then sudden movement made her jump._

_He thrusted the photo into her hands when he stormed past her, and she shakily held the photo, forcing herself to see who was in the photo, and she saw three faces she thought she never would again._

_..._

_Carl kept his intense blue eyes ahead when he gave a hand gesture to Rick and Daryl to move forward. The three men had their weapons raised as they silently moved towards the first barricade, which was a metal table with large water barrels on it. _

_Carl tried to keep a level head by looking out for Terminus people, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the metal door ahead where he knew his sister was probably being tortured, or worse. She could be dead, too. Not even Judith could find a way out of that._

_Carl's grip around his sword tightened in his cold, clammy hands and he tried to suppress his rage as well as the memories of his own experience in that cement room._

_He dragged his eyes away towards Daryl's nod of confirmation. _

_Clear._

_Carl looked towards the next barricade in view; another table a fair distance away from the last with what looked like maps and diagrams, only they were well guarded by the stacks of cardboard boxes both underneath and around the table. Probably full of food. If it was medicine, it would be stored somewhere far more secure._

_Carl made a gesture to Daryl and Rick over his shoulder before moving towards the barricade, all with their legs crouched and their weapons raised. As he drew closer to the door, his heartbeat quickened with both hope and fear. Fear that his sister was dead. But hope that she could still be alive. _

_Hope is stronger than fear._

_Only that hope disappeared with the three of them halfway to the next barricade when they heard loud, heavy footsteps coming down some stairs at an intense pace._

_Carl lunged for the barricade, still quiet to other ears, and pressed himself up against the boxes with heavy anxious breathing. He held his sword close to his chest, trying to silence his breathing and looked to his father and Daryl. _

_They were safe. Daryl was crouched on his one knee with his elbow and crossbow balancing against it behind the first barricade. Rick was crouched on his hands and knees in front of him, clutching the bow in his hand. He stared ahead at Carl with dark, calculating eyes and sweat dripping heavily from his nose. He looked just as anxious as Carl did._

_They all remained where the were, hiding from whomever was marching down those stairs._

_..._

_Tara hung by the door, adjusting her stance every two seconds, trying to control her shaky breathing. Not knowing if Judith was alive or dead was bad enough, but being back in Terminus just made everything worse. _

_Carl wasn't the only one with scars from this place._

_She kept her back firmly against the wall with the spare crossbow in her hands. Daryl's old one with the green arrows; he'd upgraded to pure silver. _

_She kept her eye out by the garage door with Michonne doing the same down towards the other end, near the corner. When she heard the echo of clunking footsteps, she peaked around the corner before fearfully whipping her head back against the wall, out of sight. She didn't have time to see who was going down those stairs, or how many, but she did have time to see the boys in the clear. _

_This did not help with Tara's anxiety. She looked wide-eyed to Michonne and made a cut throat expression with her hand: abort. However, when Tara's eyes met Michonne's her eyes were filled with a different kind of wide-eyed anxiety. She ran towards Tara giving her the same abort symbol and the next moment, Tara found out why._

_Followed by Michonne was a woman with a gun. Next thing Tara knew, the deafening sound of a gun went off, and Michonne's sprinting body collapsed into Tara's arms. She dropped her crossbow._

_Instead, she held Michonne's limp body in her arms, which were now smeared in her blood._


	29. Enemies

**Author's Notes: **Just an extension of the previous chapter. This is still really awesome to write. And don't hate Glenn and Maggie. At least not that much... They're still awesome. Review, my beloveds.

* * *

Chapter 29:

Enemies

_Maggie held the photo firmly in her grasp as she bolted after Glenn who was already halfway towards the room with the metal door. She looked over the railing for a moment and watched Glenn's stiff body stride further away with his hands fisted by his side. _

_She ran after him again, her shoes clunking loudly against the metal stairs. She didn't know what to do, and she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her breath was still caught from the shock that they'd just spent the last ten hours beating up little Judith Grimes. _

_She saw him enter that room, and ran after him, but stammered at the sound of gunfire. _

_..._

_Carl's grip on his sword tightened and his breathing was still heavy and shaky. At least he was protected by boxes. And he stayed there in fear, frozen._

_But then he heard the sound of those bastard's footsteps come closer to him – to the metal door, and then Carl saw the flash of a man enter that room._

_He wasn't frozen in place, anymore. He rolled himself onto his knees and his eyes stared coldly ahead at that door as it fell closed. Suddenly fear did not exist. Nor did hope. Just anger. Pure and uncontrollable anger. _

_He looked to Rick and Daryl who remained firmly behind the first barricade. His colder than ever eyes stared right into his fathers who gave him nothing more than a head shake._

_Don't do it._

_Those were Carl's orders. But that didn't stop him from heading for that door. Not even the sound of gunfire stopped him._

_..._

I frowned, and looked at Max who was staring wide-eyed with a slight tiredness in his eyes. "You heard that, right?" That weird sound ringing in my ears made me begin to question everything.

Max ran his fingers through his thick brown hair then against his lips before pushing himself off the floor. He looked to me to say something, and I knew he would've, too, if the jolting bang of an opening door hadn't interrupted him.

This whole time, I had grown to dislike the man who'd spent the last day beating me to shit, but even so, I understood his motives. I could see the pain in his eyes and I knew I could never hate him as much as he hated himself in those moments. If I were a better person, I could find it in myself to feel sorry for him – but my face and thigh hurt too much for that.

This whole time, I had never shown him any fear I'd felt. I had too much pride. But with the new, insane look in his eyes, I couldn't help but find myself afraid of what he was planning to do. My fear escalated when he walked right up to me, gripped me by my arms, (right on my still extremely sensitive wound) and thrusted me to my feet. He shoved me hard against the pole behind me making me whimper slightly in a mixture of fear and pain.

"What is your father's name?" He yelled into my face, his eyes wide and shaking with tears. I forced myself to stare at him and act calmer and colder than I really was.

There was more fear in his eyes than my own.

He shook me more vigorously. "HIS NAME?! What what his name?!" His eyes grew wider, then I finally noticed Max tugging at his leader, trying to get him off me.

I remained silent, glaring deeply into his eyes.

He smacked his swollen fist against the pole behind me. "Tell me his name."

I gritted my teeth and couldn't resist the proud smile that curled onto my lips. "Rick."

The man's lips parted, and when he blinked, tears fell from his wide eyes. His hands dropped to his sides and he stepped away from me. I had to stop my knees from buckling.

The man rubbed his fingers over his lips as he weakly shook his head with his eyes still on me. I had never seen anyone look so vulnerable.

"You're Judith Grimes."

I blinked.

...

_Rick watched with Daryl right behind him as his son ran for that metal door. There was no stopping him; only helping him, but then they heard the sound of a gun, and the sound of Tara's feeble voice._

"Rick!"

_Rick couldn't bring himself to just hide anymore, and neither could Daryl. The two of the stood from behind the barrels of water, but the moment their heads became noticeable, bullets whizzed by their heads, and they ducked again. His fingers fumbled with the arrows in his quiver before preparing one with his bow. Daryl waited the length of one second before standing again and shooting at whomever was shooting at us, before ducking again. Another bullet was shot, and it went through one of the clear barrels, soaking Rick's shoulder with water._

"_Are you Royals?" A woman with a Southern accent shouted out. Rick and Daryl exchanged a look while he reloaded his crossbow. That looked explained everything within a single quick glance. Either they could fight back, or negotiate. There was only one obvious conclusion. _

_On the count of three, both Daryl and Rick emerged from behind the barrels and aimed their weapons at the girl with the intention to shoot the bitch down._

_The bitch named Maggie._

_She stared at the two men with wide, unblinking eyes, and lowered her weapon. "Rick?"_

"_...Maggie?" Rick breathed, and both he and Daryl lowered their weapons._

_She clapped her hand weakly over her mouth. "Oh my God..."_

_Rick looked to Daryl for another second. It was like everything stopped. And then with a single nod, the men raised their weapons on her._

_..._

_Tara stared down at Michonne who was leaning against her with a weak grasp on her shoulders, but all Tara could see was the blood on her hands. It was times like these that Tara froze; it was her nature, but then Michonne's grip on Tara's shoulder's tightened and her other instincts kicked in. She looked ahead at the woman with her weapon raised on them and took more steps. Then Tara started dragging Michonne away with her shrugged onto her shoulder. _

"Rick!_" She shouted because it was her duty, while staggering past the garage door towards the other corner. Another gun shot went off, and she saw the bullet go against the concrete floor in front of her. Tara and Michonne moved faster. _

_Another shot went off._

_And another._

_Tara reached the corner part of the building and threw Michonne to the floor out of harms immediate way, then Tara threw herself on top of her. Tara didn't have a crossbow, but Michonne still had managed to hold onto her sword. She saw one hand clenched around the sword, and the other gripping at the small hole in her stomach. The bullet pierced her clean through, and Michonne started to gurgle on her own blood._

"_Oh, shit," Tara hissed three or four times as she sat up on her knees and pressed her hands against the wound, which didn't stop the bleeding. Tara's wide doe eyes stared down at her hands as Michonne's warm, red blood seeped through her fingers._

"_Mich—Michonne... It's gonna be okay," Tara stuttered, her eyes still wide and the lie was apparent on her face. She forced a grin on her face. "You're gonna be just fine," Tara said and looked into Michonne's eyes, who looked back into hers. They were calm and still despite the lurching of her chest from the blood she was choking on._

_Tara reached for Michonne's hand, placed it against her wound and gripped at it hard. "You're gonna be just fine."_

_..._

_Carl heard the sound of gunfire. But neither his heart nor brain were telling him to go to it – no matter who was in danger, because all thoughts returned to Judith and that room with the metal door. _

_With every step he took, one more memory entered his thoughts. Step one: the punching into his face. Step two: the sound of the hammer as it slammed against his small hand. Step three: the knife as it was dragged slowly down his cheek._

_And then Carl kicked open the door with his sword firmly in his grasp. He saw the slender back of the man who he could just tell had done this to her. Carl growled loudly as the man turned around to look at him with wide unblinking eyes and Carl extended his sword to the man's chin. _

_But then he saw who it was._

_Carl froze as Glenn stared at him with the same shock in his eyes. The anger Carl had felt; the vengeance – it had drained away, as had the colour from his face, and was replaced with this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. _

"_Carl?" _

_He drew his eyes away from Glenn to his little sister who looked at him with mere confusion. Carl's breath caught and he didn't notice the tears already streaming from his eyes when he looked at his dear sister. Judith, with the blood stained face that was red and purple with bruises; so swollen, it was hard to tell it was her. _

_The sickness in Carl's stomach grew, and the grip on his sword weakened. "_Judith..." _Was the only thing to escape Carl's lips weakly. "No," he croaked, "No, no, no, no, no..." _

_Then Carl's eyes fell upon Glenn's hand; swollen, red and bruised, just like Judith's face. And the grip on his sword tightened. _


	30. Everything will be okay

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, you're really gonna want to read this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 30:

Everything will be okay

_It was Maggie's instincts that brought her to raise her gun on Rick. She looked into his cold, icy eyes which glared at her as he raised his weapon on her; the arrow aiming for her head. Daryl had done the same. _

_Maggie still couldn't believe it: they were alive. And even though it had been seventeen years, she still looked at them and saw family; comrades; blood. But Maggie had just shed his daughter's. _

_Despite all this, those cold instincts had kept Maggie's gun raised on him, but she would never bring herself to shoot. If only she could say the same about him._

"_Rick," Maggie said, trying to keep her tone even. She slowly raised on hand from her gun, keeping it on him, and raised it in comradery; peace. "Just listen—"_

"_Where is she?" Rick interrupted coldly. He took a step closer, and she could see drips of sweat shake off in anger. "Where is MY DAUGHTER?!" _

_Maggie's body shook and she immediately took a step back._

_Daryl glared at her evenly from behind his raised and aimed crossbow. "He asked you a question," he growled with that deep, gruff tone of his. _

_The last time Maggie saw Daryl, it was as he cradled Beth in his arms; right before she was escorted from the shipping container. _

_Beth. _

_Maggie's eyes widened in hope at the realisation that Beth might be still alive, but that was followed by the overwhelming sense of fear that she wasn't. "Beth," she blurted out, glancing anxiously from Rick to Daryl. She saw him blink and adjust his hold on his crossbow sending a nervous shiver through Maggie's body. "She alive?" Maggie croaked._

_Daryl squinted. "Is Judith?" He growled back. _

"_Yes."_

_Rick took another step towards her, but Maggie stood her ground. "Then where is she?" He shouted at her and she eyed his hold on the aimed wooden arrow. _

_Maggie stared into Rick's threatening eyes and at the point of the arrow only a meter from her head, and she stared back with cool, concise ease. Then she did something Glenn would never approve of. She lowered her gun. _

"_You already know," she said, still keeping that even tone. _

_Rick couldn't keep his eyes off Maggie; couldn't look to Daryl, but he didn't need to because they both were on the same page, regardless. They held their weapons on her until she slowly placed her gun on the floor. It was a voluntary action. _

_That's why Daryl and Rick lowered their weapons, too. _

_And then they heard more gunfire. _

_..._

I was so confused. An emotion I was not fond of. I looked at Carl who stared back at me with tear stained cheeks and absolute pain in his eyes. I don't know why – it's not like I was dead, or anything. He looked at the leader in a different way than I expected. I recognised the look in his eyes: betrayal. Why, though? And how did that man know my name?

"Carl?" I asked with a raspy voice. My throat had gotten worse.

Carl didn't look at me, anymore. The pain was still there in his eyes, but the anger and betrayal was much more obvious.

Carl lowered his chin and his eyes seemed to go ten shades darker when he stared at the man. "Did you know it was her?" He asked in a low voice. "DID YOU KNOW IT WAS JUDITH?"

I gave an involuntary jump.

"Not until now," the man said weakly. I saw his shoulder's slump and his chin fall. "If I had known..." He trailed off and I saw Carl adjusted the grip on his sword. Then the man raised his chin and clenched his fists by his sides. "If you kill me," the man began and I waited to hear whatever cliche threat he had. "...I will understand," he croaked and I cocked brow. "...I deserve it."

Oh.

I looked at Carl who remained still with his sword raised and his eyes dark with rage. I had no idea what Carl was gonna do, and I don't think he did either. And suddenly everything made sense and my one moveable eye widened in shock.

"You're Glenn..." This was a weird experience for me. Honestly, I always thought if I were to meet someone good from Dad's past, it would be joyous. Not painful.

I forgot Max was in the room with us, until he raised a gun I didn't know he had on my brother. "Lower your weapon," he growled, and I was surprised he had it in him.

"Max—" Glenn began.

Max just shook his head, his eyes wide with the same amount of confusion I felt about five seconds ago. "Sorry, Glenn. I don't know what the _hell_ is goin' on, but dude," he said to my brother, "I _will_ shoot you."

I knew Carl was thankful for the order because it took the choice from him. Whether he killed Glenn, or not, it didn't matter. I was thankful for that, too.

Carl lowered his gladius from Glenn's neck then dropped it to the floor, making a loud clack against the concrete. It was only then that I realised there were blood stains all over it – and not just mine.

"Okey-dokey," Max said and my brow was once again raised. He adjusted his feet and gripped at the black gun with both hands. My brow raised even further. I'm guessing he wasn't used to being the most powerful one in the room.

Probably why he looked nervously to Glenn who couldn't take his eyes off Carl. "What do I do, now?"

Glenn remained silent for a long moment, and I wondered if he would just fall to his knees and surrender. His silence was deafening, but that painful silence was filled with the sound of more gunfire, followed by a muffled scream that none of us could make out.

"Unchain her," Glenn snapped with a low voice.

I noticed the flash of a smile on Max's face, then he frowned. "...Really?"

Glenn rolled his eyes, strode to Max and lowered his gun before hurrying to me, fishing a key out of his pocket as he did.

I tensed up with Glenn behind me, his hands brushing against mine as I heard the rustling of chains. I didn't know how to react; whether I would hide behind Carl like a coward, or kill him like an idiot. I don't think I have it in me to forgive someone who just beat the shit out of me: not even 'family'.

Even so, when the chains clacked against the floor loudly, I immediately clapped my hands against my wrists. I didn't know how bruised my wrists were and how sore and stiff my arms were until I moved them.

Glenn didn't look at me.

He just staggered past me and looked to Carl while I stood warily behind him rubbing my wrists. I think I would have lunged into Carl's arms if he wasn't still in shock, and if it didn't make me look so weak.

"Get your sword and let's go," Glenn said to Carl while Max and I just stared at them both. But Carl didn't question anything; just started walking out of the room at a fast pace. Glenn pulled out the gun hiding behind his shirt the entire time, that none of us noticed until now, and cocked it.

Max looked at me with wide, blinking eyes and I just stared steadily back. We stood there a long moment just staring at each other before heading after them, staying a meter behind. It was harder for me to keep up – my leg having a hole going all the way through it, and all. Hell, it was hard for me to walk at all.

We were in the open space of the warehouse when I saw Dad. And Daryl. And the Southern bitch, who I now could tell was Maggie. I made a mental note not to refer to her as the Southern bitch, anymore. They all had their weapons lowered when we saw them, but it was clear that the gun shots we heard were from the gun Maggie was holding.

The sight of two of the greatest men in my life gave me this uplifting feeling in my stomach and for a moment, I forgot about the pain, like with Max. But I knew this wasn't the time for petty things like emotions, nor did Carl or Glenn.

I didn't know what to say to them – they had just spent the last, like, ten hours in fear thinking that I was dead, or worse. So I went with the easy choice. "Hi."

Daryl, Dad and Maggie turned and looked to me and I did my best to act tough; like my face wasn't killing me and my leg was nothing more than a paper cut.

What I saw in Dad's eyes was similar to what I saw in Carl's, only he was smarter about it. He went through the process of pain, empathy, anger and resolution due to the situation at hand. I respected that.

Daryl was different.

I stood there, leaning heavily on one leg with Glenn standing guiltily in front of me and I felt disturbingly exposed. I watched Daryl's reaction as he saw me with his lowered crossbow. He blinked more times than one naturally would like he couldn't believe what was before his eyes. His grip on his crossbow weaken and then gripped so tight his knuckles went white; I could hear the aggressively heavy breathing from his nose half a room away. He grimaced, growled angrily and raised his crossbow on Glenn, storming towards him. The look in his eyes...

It was the type of murderous look a protective father gives over their daughter.

Maggie raised her gun on Daryl. Dad raised his bow on Maggie. Max raised his gun on Dad. Carl took Max by the hair and pressed his sword against his neck.

Had I a weapon of any kind, it would have been raised, too.

Glenn was the only one with a weapon he didn't raise. He held it tightly by his side, and stared into Daryl's raging eyes. Glenn looked brave for someone with an arrow an inch away from his eye.

I couldn't help but be impressed.

Then we heard more gunfire.

In the best way I could, I staggered ahead of Glenn and placed a hand on Daryl's crossbow. I looked at him through my one eye and tried to look the calmest and most easing I could. "Put the crossbow down, Daryl," I told him evenly, like I would a dog with no leash.

Daryl's tortured eyes were locked on Glenn's cool ones and his crossbow didn't budge.

"Listen to her, Daryl," I heard Maggie say.

"Shuttup!" Daryl sneered and I couldn't resist an eye roll when my hand dropped.

This time, I smacked my hand (which was totally not bruised or injured) against his crossbow and forced it down, glaring at him sternly as I did, though I appreciated the sentiment.

"All of you," I growled, my patience seriously wearing thin, "Put your goddamn, mother fucking weapons down!" I didn't normally swear this much...

I saw Dad's head cock towards me. "You watch your mouth," he ordered sharply, and I think it was before he came to terms with the situation. Instincts, I guess.

I turned to him, making the mistake of leaning against my bad leg, then back to my un-impaled one. I took my time to raise a brow at him and say, "...Seriously?"

Dad gave me a look, before being the first to lower his weapon. Then Maggie, then Max – though he didn't really have a choice in the matter, with a sword pressed against his throat.

I turned to Carl, giving him a dark, warning glare. "Let him go."

He didn't. I lowered my chin. "Please?"

I saw the reluctance and anger in him before lowering his sword and shoving Max roughly ahead. Max stumbled a little, but avoided tripping, and resisted his obvious urge to rub his scalp.

We heard another round of gun shots, but everyone remained still and torturously tense. No one was willing to make the first move. But everyone was desperate to.

All for the safety of their own people.

_..._

_Despite herself, Tara kept her hands steady against Michonne's stomach while warm blood continued to seep through. It had been a long time since her hands had been that red with blood. _

"_Don't worry, Daryl and Rick will be here soon. They'll save us," Tara breathed to Michonne who stared up at her, still with those calm easing eyes. "They always do." _

_But Michonne only responded with another cough, splattering Tara's face with blood. More bullets went off and Tara saw what they hit: nothing. The woman had probably attracted more people and they were firmly by the wall around the corner. It was only a matter of time before they turned that corner. Tara whipped her head around, looking for any possible escape from this death trap, but there was none. Staying behind this corner was the safest they could ever be._

_More bullets flew and Tara instinctively covered her head with her arms against Michonne's body, before smacking her hands down against Michonne's wound. She started gurgling again. _

_Tara snaked one hand behind her head and raised it, to help with the blood, but it didn't and Tara soon came to realise that nothing would. "It's okay," Tara breathed, looking down into Michonne's calm brown eyes. "Everything is going to be okay..." Michonne's grasp on Tara's hand weakened and Tara squeezed it harder. "Everything," Tara cried, "Will be okay." Michonne coughed up one last mouthful of blood, then went quiet. "...It has to be..."_

_The Samurai's lips curled into one last smile. Her still and calm eyes remained just that: still. Calm. _

_Lifeless._

_Tara let Michonne's hand fall out of her own and fell back against the wall. She stared into the lifeless eyes of the fallen samurai and told herself one thing: That everything was going to be okay. It had to be._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I'm sorry.


	31. Michonne

Chapter 31:

Michonne

We all just stood there, some of us better than others, waiting for someone to make the first move. Clearly, we needed to work on our trust issues.

Silence – except for the sound of consecutive bullets being fired. But it was when the shots stopped being fired that we all turned our heads from each others' weapons to the exit. Suddenly someone emerged through the door—some girl with frizzy brown hair and abnormally sharp cheekbones.

"Outsiders!" She shouted to her leaders with her gun held to her chest, "We got outsid—" She stopped short at the sight of us, then raised her gun on me. Probably because I was closest, or maybe because I was the only one without a weapon. Or because I was more noticeable – my face being a swollen, purple and red target, and all.

Maggie immediately strode towards the woman, standing directly in my path with her hand raised. "Mandy, lower your weapon," she ordered darkly. Strange. I had never been protected by a stranger, before.

_Mandy_ sneered at her. "What, are you protecting these jerks, or somethin'?"

Jerks? Ooh, calm down.

Glenn hurried over to Maggie's side. "They are not the enemy."

The woman snorted and I noticed her eyes were narrow set; catlike and green, with a vicious yellow tinge to it. "Really?" She sneered, "'Cause they're people just attacked me!" She accused.

I frowned, and looked over my shoulder to Dad and Daryl. How many of us had he brought? Michonne, definitely. Daryl would've left Beth with someone to protect her: probably Abe. Tara would refuse to leave me; I knew that much.

Shit.

Suddenly I knew how Daryl had felt just moments ago. I staggered past Maggie and Glenn, shoving myself in front of them and I heard the following footsteps of my boys. And Max.

I gritted my teeth when I glared at the woman. "You shot at our people?" I growled.

The woman snorted, giving me a bitchy look like she was in a Cecily von Ziegesar novel – there's a reason I never read her books. "Yeah. I did."

I rolled my stiff head and I heard clicking in my neck. I clenched my fists, trying to remain calm, but that just ran through my mind. I charged for her, and I felt Daryl pull me back around the waist. "I'll kill you," I hissed to the bitch, but I didn't fight Daryl.

Mandy kept her gun on me, until Maggie rushed up to her and pulled the gun out of her hands. I think Mandy was so stunned by her actions – or, to her, I suppose it would seem like betrayal – that taking the gun was easy.

Daryl's grip on my waist loosened, but he still held me, and again, I didn't resist. Though I wasn't proud, I was still grateful for the help standing, and he knew it.

"What the hell you think you're doing?" Mandy asked in a high-pitched, piercing tone with her hands waved in the air.

Glenn took a dominating step towards Mandy, staring her down. "I repeat: they are not the enemy."

I was impressed by his intensity.

Glenn raised his chin towards the exit. "Gather the others and keep them calm," he paused, "Understood?"

I could see Mandy's jaw clench and her glare was replaced with a hint of intimidation. "Yes."

Glenn didn't say anything else to her when he headed towards the exit, until she almost out of sight. "No one leaves the courtyard!" He called out to her, and I could just tell that no one would. At least, I hoped so.

Glenn turned the corner towards the opposite direction of Mandy to the place she was shooting at and the rest of us traipsed after him. Daryl's grip on me went away completely as he held onto his crossbow, directly behind Glenn.

Before following the others, Maggie handed me Mandy's rifle without a hint of doubt in her decision and for a moment I just stood there in surprise, the gun limp in my hands. But that grip tightened quickly. It felt good to have a weapon again – I just wish it wasn't a gun.

Then I staggered after them, Max walking hesitantly next to me. I didn't know how to feel about him and the thought of Tara in danger made me not care: not at all.

Because of my wound, I was slower than everyone else. When I made it outside, I could only see the brown fabric of Carl's over-shirt disappear behind the corner of the building. I hobbled over to them, gripping onto the gun more tightly than ever and glancing over my shoulder with uncertainty.

Of course, I knew something was wrong, even before I turned that stupid corner. I felt it in my gut. I saw the small dents in the concrete as I hobbled, and drips of fresh blood out the corner of my eye.

I am not an optimist. I like to think I'm a realist, which is why I knew to prepare for the worst when I turned that corner.

And there Tara was. There we all were; in a circle surrounding Michonne's dead body. My eyes locked on Michonne's unmoving ones: they were still, like they always were. I always liked that about Michonne, until this day.

My breath caught, much like everyone else's, but my knees didn't buckle. I thought they might, but they didn't. Instead, Carl's did. I saw him collapse next to me and his body sway slightly.

Carl was my best friend, and I was Tara's. But Michonne was Carl's. No, she wasn't just his best friend, she was his first friend; a mother to him; a mentor. He cared more about Michonne than he did himself.

I didn't know what to do in moments like these. Not with Tyreese, or Sacha, or Bob.

Or Carol.

So I did what seemed right. I lowered myself to one knee and held my dear brother's hand. I gripped it tightly, and didn't let go. At first, his hand remained limp in my grasp, but then I felt the rough squeeze he gave, and he didn't let go, either.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Michonne is dead. My condolences, but there is a reason this chapter is short. Review, guys. Even hateful reviews for killing her! C'mon! Thanks.


	32. Someone had to do it

Chapter 32:

Someone had to do it

I know it was wrong to think this, and a part of me hated myself, but all I could think was how happy I was that it wasn't Tara. This was a thought I couldn't say aloud, especially not to Carl or even Tara.

I don't know how much time had passed, but one thing I knew was that every second was longer than it should be – which is impossible, I know.

Forcing myself to look away from Michonne's eyes was almost too hard to do, but every moment longer I stared, the more pain I felt. I couldn't even imagine how Carl was feeling. Michonne's eyes stared back at me lifelessly, and looking up I saw everyone with the same look in their eyes: lifeless. Dad was completely still, his crossbow hanging limply in his hand. Daryl was the same. My eyes then darted to Maggie who stared down at Michonne's body with her hands clapped over her mouth. Glenn kept his hand against the small of her back, but his eyes did not leave Michonne's body. Before Glenn knew who I was, I saw resistance in his eyes when he had to hurt me. When he had to kill me, I saw torturous pain. And when he found out I was Judith Grimes, I saw more guilt than one man could take. But now...

I could see Glenn struggling to fight against the tears welling up in his pained eyes. He thought he didn't have the right to cry.

Perhaps he didn't.

I felt Carl's grip in my hand tighten, and finally I looked to him. His mouth hung slightly open and his lips were trembling. He was quiet through the tears breaking off his black lashes. His eyes have never looked so blue. I didn't want to let go of my brother's hand, but I felt I had to. So I did. I went over slowly and knelt by Michonne's head, placing my hand over her eyes and closing them. Someone had to do it.

But there was something else that had to be done, too.

I looked up to Carl whose eyes didn't leave Michonne's limp body, his own still swaying slightly. I saw Max standing behind him and I don't know why, but I felt a rush of anger surge through me – I ignored it.

I looked to Tara who leaned against the wall with her legs propped up and her bloodied hands leaning on them. They were still dripping. Just one look into her brown doe eyes and that horrible feeling of happiness came back. Was it wrong to be happy she was alive?

It didn't feel right doing this, but it had to be done.

I stood up slowly and with agonising pain, and turned to the person closest to me; Daryl. He stood by Dad's side with his crossbow still in his grasp. Knowing Daryl, he didn't want to be touched, or focused on. Not when he was hurting, and I respected that.

But there was still something that needed to be done, and I knew it should be me to do it. I reached for Daryl's belt, and slid his hunter's knife from the leather sheath.

A lump in my throat formed when I stared back down at Michonne's body, but I didn't cry. I wasn't numb, and I wasn't overwhelmed with sadness. And I didn't cry.

Because, like Glenn, I didn't have the right to cry.

I gripped at the knife in my hand, adjusting it with my stiff fingers because no hold felt right. Something sick lurched in the pit of my stomach and for a second I thought I couldn't go through with it, but then I saw Carl's face and the pain in it. That was enough to make me do what had to be done.

I knelt down over Michonne's body, gently pressing one hand against her cold forehead and slowly lowered the knife below her chin. I knew it had to be me; no one else should have to go through this, and I don't think anyone could – hell, I hardly could.

Then I thrusted the knife up through to her brain, then yanked it back out. I stared down at my shaking hand and Michonne's blood began to drip down the blade over my hand.

Her blood was still warm.

That's when I dropped the knife, hearing it clank against the concrete and stammered back. I felt Dad rest a hand on my shoulder in a comforting way, but I didn't want it there.

I didn't deserve to be comforted.

And then I fainted.

...

Abrupt, I know, but that's the thing about fainting: it sort of just happens without much warning.

The last thing I felt was Dad's hand on my shoulder and the last thing I saw was Michonne. Perhaps it was seeing her that caused me to pathetically faint among my family members, but from the throbbing, searing pain in my leg, I guessed it was due to the pain.

When I opened my eyes I saw more cement walls, and for a moment I panicked, fearing I was back in that room, but then my hands shot for the first thing it could grab. Bed sheets. I sat up and looked around me, seeing I was at the end of a long line of beds with another against the opposite wall.

Okay, I was in a hospital of sorts – good to know. And based on the sun shining through it was late morning. How long was I out?

I sat up before realising how much it would hurt, which turned out to be more than I could handle and muted the yelp with the back of my hand. But the thought of my family being without me made me overlook the pain, and I swung my bare legs out from underneath the once white sheets. I tensed at that sight: someone had not only taken off my scuffed boots, but also my shorts. Granted, they were impractical, but still. But at least my shirt was still on, though the white had now become a mixture of sweat stains and blood with rips and tears here and there. I roll my eyes. They couldn't have taken that away?

But then my rolling eyes fall upon the small metal table by the side of the bed with a folded shirt, my pants and shoes were.

Gettin' creepy...

I tugged at the pants and held them by a loop, observing them. They were just as dirty, with my blood stained, but the hole in it was sewn up. How nice. The shirt was a simple singlet with thick straps that wouldn't fall, and one colour: green. It would do.

Though I couldn't help but wonder who wore it before. For a moment, I considered not wearing it, or anything associated with Terminus, but they'd already done me kindness that I can't refuse, so it seemed a little pointless, and illogical.

Another thing I noticed were the weapons laid next to my shoes: bow, arrows and knives.

My, how trusting of them.

It wasn't until after I began shrugging on the clothes that I noticed the hole in my leg was sewn closed. I grinned.

"Wow... It took you _that_ long to notice, huh?"

I whipped my head around towards the open entrance, seeing Tara with her arms folded over her chest, leaning against the wall. The first thing I noticed was the lack of blood on her hands. The second thing was the casual smirk on her face and the shadows under her eyes; false casual demeanor and no sleep means she was far from okay. Tara used to handle death differently, but I guess we all did.

I shrugged. "I'm a girl. Of course I noticed clothes before the wound," I said with a matching smirk. If this was how she wanted to handle this, I would respect that. I buckled up my pants and sat on the bed to tie up my boots. It hurt brutally to lift my leg up, but I tried to ignore it. "Besides," I grunted, "I can't remember the last time I wasn't in pain. How am I supposed to notice when it goes away?"

Tara kicked herself off the wall and headed over to me. "So you're feeling better?"

I bit my lip, dropping my foot to the ground. "Physically." Maybe Tara could fake their emotions, but I didn't have it in me. I coughed awkwardly and stood up, leaning heavily on my right leg. "Did I miss it?"

Tara stared at me without an expression on her tanned face. "Yes."

When one of our people died, we had a protocol. We _never_ let them turn; we bury them and we move on. We never were given much time to move on, and I think in another world, I might have been the type to visit a lost one's grave everyday, or something. But I preferred this world, where we had no choice to move on. Instead of mourning, we did our best to stay strong, and had the distraction of walkers, wars and assorted other problems.

Michonne was no different.

Except for Carl, but knowing him, he would act like he was fine until he really was; until he believed the lie he created for himself.

It seemed like Tara was taking a page out of his book.

After a moment for me had passed, Tara held out her hand, but I rejected it – I should get used to walking. Instead I slung my arrows and bow over my shoulder and strapped the knives around my good leg. When I popped back up from tucking the hunter's knife into my boot, black spots momentarily cleared my vision. When I pressed my palm to my forehead, I winced in pain. For a moment, I had forgotten about the pain in my face and I figured I didn't look too pretty.

"What else did I miss?" I asked tensely as she led me out the hospital wing into a dark corridor that connected to the warehouse.

Tara sighed tiredly, but she almost sounded bored. I knew she wasn't, though. "You and I are the only ones left."

I stammered and gripped at her forearm for balance then looked at her with one wide eyes. The other had slammed closed completely, like it was glued shut. "What?" I hissed rather sharply.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then placed a hand on my forearm. "Oh! No, Jude, they're fine," she said with another smirk. She let me go and shrugged. "They're just not here." She nudged her head towards the garage door exit and we continued walking at a slow pace for my benefit.

"Well, where the hell are they?" I eyed Tara in wait for a response, but not without one tormenting glance at that metal door. If I never saw the insides of that bloodstained room again, I would live happy.

"Um..." She rubbed her chin. "After you fainted, everyone kinda just stopped hating each other for a moment. Rick and Daryl got you into the bed and had some Irish dude sew you up with Glenn and Maggie leading them there. We knew we couldn't leave with you like that, so Rick and Glenn... Had a little chat."

I let out a bitter laugh, then Tara stared at me. "No, really – all they did was talk."

I stared down at my feet as I walked out the door to avoid the bright sun. "And what did we agree on?"

Tara paused a long moment and I squinted up at her, who squinted up at the sky. "A few things, actually. But we all agreed," she said cryptically and we kept walking.

I gritted my. The pain was bad enough. "On what?"

"Well," Tara sighed bitterly. We turned the corner and she extended a bare, slender arm towards a courtyard where an entire community of people stared darkly at us over their plates of food.

I would have swallowed if it didn't hurt so much and I dragged my eyes away from them to Tara. "Welcome to Terminus." She stared at me with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Our new home."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **If you were to review, I wouldn't mind... (she wrote so innocently with _no_ sign of pathetic desperation in her 'tone', because she is _not_ an egotist that seeks gratitude from anonymous strangers...)


	33. Befuddled

Chapter 33:

Befuddled

So apparently when you break into someone else's property, then shoot at them and injure at least two of them, you aren't very well liked by said people.

That was obvious through the glares and sudden silence among the people.

I accepted that, but it didn't mean I wanted to be surrounded by them with no one by my side. Tara left to help check the perimeter, but really I think she just couldn't handle being around these people. I couldn't say I blame her.

I would have joined her if it weren't for the fact that I knew she needed to be alone, and also if it weren't for the fact that I refused to coward away from anybody, no matter how much they hated me. This, and I was really hungry.

This woman with blonde hair in a tight bun and wrinkles by her eyes glared coldly at me as she handed me a plate of two long grilled carrots, mashed up potatoes and a small chunk of meat. It looked like squirrel to me, but I could be wrong.

When I looked at the tables available, I saw only one empty one and as I walked towards it, I could feel everyone's judging eyes on me, so I tried to hide the limp in my step, gritting my teeth as I did. I was grateful for the long seat when I swung my leg over it and sat down. I picked up my fork and started playing with the food in front of me. With people's eyes on me, suddenly I didn't feel so hungry – and I didn't trust that that woman didn't spit on my food or something.

Aha!

But that's what they wanted from me: to not eat _their_ food. So I did. I ate that surprisingly delightful food and it was so good, I didn't care if there was a woman's spit on it. Hell, I was totally satisfied sitting there and filling my empty stomach that I found myself smiling.

I was glad Tara wasn't here to see that.

The thought of Tara made me think of Michonne, and suddenly I didn't feel so hungry. I had to clench my stomach in fear of throwing it all up. I gripped tightly at my fork and wiped away the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. All I could see was Michonne's lifeless eyes staring up at me and I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only made me see her more clearly. I didn't want to see her.

When I opened my eyes, I saw someone sitting across from me. I was so distracted, I didn't notice when that girl Mandy sat down. She stared at me with those gleaming cat-like eyes and wry smile, her crossed arms resting against the table.

That sickness in the pit of my stomach became fuel for my anger and hatred towards her. I know it was my fault, but it was her's, too.

"What?" I asked lowly through gritted teeth, my head down so when I looked at her it was the darkest of glares.

When I looked into her dark eyes, the yellow tinge seemed to shine cruelly, and all I saw was Michonne's still eyes, then her vicious ones. I slammed my metal fork against the wooded table and raised my chin, my jaw still clenched. I tried to look threatening, but that was hard to do with half my face swollen up to twice it's size. "What do you want, bitch?" I sneered.

She didn't say anything at first, but the corners of her mouth curled into a snider smile. "Nice bruises. Took weak to hold your own?"

I didn't care, but it was that look in her eyes that really pissed me off. Before I knew what I had done, I threw my plate of mashed up food into her face. She lurched to her feet, but by the time she had wiped the potato out of her eyes, I already had a butter knife pressed below her chin with my hand gripped tightly around her neck.

When she smacked her arm towards me, I let go of her neck and grabbed it, twisted her wrist as far as it could go, then smashed it into the table. She let out a small cry of pain, and I knew that in seconds, members of Terminus would be beating me into the ground.

I was stupid. But then I saw Michonne's lifeless eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to care. But it wasn't a throw to the ground and shoes kicking me in the gut that I felt, but someone's firm hands wrapping around my arms and tugging me back away from Mandy, pressing me against their chest.

I didn't order them to let me go, nor did I try to yank my arms away, because I wasn't _that_ stupid. Whoever this was, they were saving me. I would have thought it be Tara, but the hands were long and bony, and I could feel a slightly muscular chest pressed against my shoulder blares. I faked a struggle so they didn't mistake me for being weak as he pulled me further and further away from Mandy. I glared at her as her figure became smaller in the distance. I didn't notice the other people staring at me; they were just faceless blurs to me.

Then I was yanked around the corner towards the warehouse again, and spun around. I looked into Max's vulnerable seeming brown eyes as he thrusted me painfully against the cement wall, pinning my arms above my head as he gripped tightly at my wrists.

It hurt.

But I know he didn't want to hurt me – he was harmless, regardless of the fact that he shot me with an arrow. I forced myself to smirk as I looked at him, he wasn't much taller than me so there was no stare of intimidation, like with Daryl. "Ooh," I cooed, still smirking, then I cocked a brow. "Kinky."

Max blushed and glanced away for a moment, forcing himself not to smile bashfully. He hid his embarrassment with a cough and stern glare at me. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No," I said, my smirk faltering, then looked him up and down. "But you are if you don't let go of me." Unlike Max, I was capable of hurting people with intent, and he knew it, but he still didn't let me go. His innocent eyes narrowed on me as he closed the distance between us. With him this close, I realised he actually was taller than me by like a foot, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never scare me.

I looked up at him with his arms raised above our heads. Huh. Today, he was wearing a baggy black t-shirt that showed off a little more muscle, which is hard not to have in this world. My eyes darted away from his towards the long list of names tattooed on his left forearm.

For a second he pulled me close, before thrusting me painfully against the wall again to get my attention. "There's fifty of us and five of you," he informed me, but the begging in his eyes was clear to me. If this was anyone else, it would be a threat, but with him it was a warning.

I clenched my jaw and forced a nod.

He let me go, and I brought my raw wrists from the chains to my chest and rubbed them, but kept my eyes on his. Max stared me down narrowly. I merely stared in confusion as he leaned close to my ear and inhaled my scent through his nose before leaning back.

He leaned back, shrugged and bobbed his head, swaying his body in the direction of the courtyard. "You smell nice."

I merely watched him walk away, befuddled.

...

_In the last two days, Daryl had slept the total of two hours. Leaving Terminus before eating or resting was dumb, but neither him nor Rick wanted to be there any longer than they had to. Carl was the only one who was resistant on staying – but Rick insisted. Daryl glanced over his shoulder at Carl who walked eerily behind them in an almost catatonic state. It reminded him of Rick over Lori's death. _

_Carl was stiff and silent and his glazed eyes stared ahead into nothingness. When Rick spoke to him, he snapped out of his daze, but only for a moment. It seemed reckless to take him into the woods in this state, but he didn't question Rick's judgement. He was sure he had a good reason. _

_The thought of leaving Lil' Asskicker behind killed Daryl inside. Even more so when thinking Glenn was the reason why. But this was another reason why Daryl had to get out of there; no matter how strong Beth thought he was, or Judith, he wasn't strong enough to stop himself from beating Glenn to death. _

_And he couldn't kill Glenn, but he couldn't take Judith. Physically, Judy was useless. Temporarily weak. _

_When Daryl felt Rick's elbow nudge against his side, he was snapped out of his own little trans. Daryl eyed him._

"_You alright with the plan?"_

_Daryl was far from alright with the plan, but he knew there was no choice in the matter, especially with the baby on the way. And a drunk Irish doctor was better than Abe. _

_Daryl pressed his thin lips together tightly and nodded his head. "Mh hm," he mumbled. "Gotta be."_

_And that was the truth: this plan work would be hard, but for the sake of the group. For Beth and Judith, and his unborn child. The cruel fact of the matter was that they couldn't survive without people._

_..._

_A few hours went by as Rick walked with Daryl and Carl, and all his mind was racing with troubling thoughts: his daughter was tortured; Glenn and Maggie were the ones who caused it; Carl was unstable; his group was once again split up; they were moving into an enemy community; Michonne was dead. _

_Rick pressed his palm firmly against his temple, trying to get that last thought out of his mind. She was dead. They didn't have the luxury to mourn the dead anymore, or the bodies just piled up. People were counting on Rick, and his daughter was one of them. _

_Rick forced himself to think about the problems he could solve, and Michonne was not one of them. The first one on his list was Beth. _

_Carl remained silent and nearly invisible behind him and he glanced at Daryl before steadying his gaze ahead. "You know what you're gonna say to Beth?"_

"_'Bout what?" Daryl grunted._

_At first Rick raised a confused brow over the question that seemed so obvious. But then he thought about it a little more and realised there were so many problems for the group, he could be talking about any of them. _

"_Maggie," Rick said huskily. _

_Daryl paused in his steps for a moment before adjusting the crossbow raised to his face. Clearly Daryl had been thinking about their problems as much as Rick had. _

"_Nope," Daryl grunted, and Rick knew that was his way of ending the conversation. How does one tell another that their beloved sister – the last living family they have left, thought to be dead, is not only alive, but is the enemy who tortured their adoptive daughter? Though it was never really spoken aloud, it was the truth. Though Lori was Carl's mother, Beth was Judy's. _

_How does one tell someone that? _


	34. Guilt

Chapter 34:

Guilt

Being at Terminus was a number of things: dangerous, threatening, lonely... The worst past was boredom. According to Tara, the group was gonna rest at the prison before heading back, which seemed safest to me, so I accepted it.

Tara was still distracting herself by guarding the fence, and I knew me being there wouldn't make things better. I knew how she would look at me; she would see my beaten-to-shit face, she would remember Michonne's dead and that I'm 'just a kid' and would look at me like I was a kicked puppy.

I hated that look.

So I stayed clear of her, trying to forget the stillness of Michonne's eyes as I walked around the grounds. No matter who I walked by, people would stare. Either in fear of me or hatred, but none of them looked at me with welcoming arms. It came to the point where their looks just made me want to kill them, so I kept walking on my pained leg until I found somewhere secluded.

The only two places with seclusion in the middle of the day was the warehouse where I was beaten up in and Daryl, Rick and Carl were shot at, and the other place was around the corner of the warehouse. All that was there were closed shipping containers, a dead end from the back walls of buildings, and a large blood stain.

At least it had dried.

I gripped tightly at my leg as I slumped against the wall and slowly let my body slide down to the floor. I stared down at my feet which laid propped up an inch away from where the blood pool started. This was unhealthy, right? I mean, I may not have seen Oprah, but I'm sure she would have said something negative about this.

I wrapped my arms around my newly sun-kissed legs and pulled them tightly against my chest. I rested my chin against my knees and stared at the bloodstain, thinking about Michonne. And Carol. Two deaths I could never forget.

There were things I could have been doing to distract myself from this, but a part of me thought that was the coward's way out. Even though I had to force myself to look at Michonne's dried up bloodstain, I couldn't do it for long. I groaned and laid my forehead against my knees, running my fingers through my hair, but it ended up getting tangled, so I did my bet to yank them free.

"_...How can you say that?!"_

I raised my head from my knees and cocked my head to the side to hear better. Rude of me, sure, but also distracting.

"_I just... need some air..." _

It was clear that the voices belonged to Glenn and Maggie, and the guilt was blatantly obvious in Glenn's voice. I knew how he felt.

I could hear his loud footsteps against the metal stairs from their loft. His pace was fast, like he was desperate to get away from Maggie.

I didn't know what I was doing until I was doing it, but I found myself standing and failing at it with my shitty leg, but at least I had the wall for support. I walked around the corner and found myself ignorant of Michonne's bloodstain. I made myself let go of the wall and keep walking until I saw Glenn emerge from the warehouse.

Glenn didn't see me. He came to an abrupt stop and took in deep breaths, almost like he was hyperventilating. He made a small groaning sound and crouched, pressing his closed fists against his forehead, not that different to how I was just before.

I don't know why, but I felt for him. Not sympathy, but I just knew how he was feeling. I don't think I'd wish that on anyone.

Except maybe Mandy.

"Hey," I said more hoarsely than I intended. I think my throat was getting worse.

When Glenn heard me, he knew who it was immediately and stammered to his feet. He faced me respectfully, but stared down at my feet.

"What," I asked, "Don't like to see your handy work?" I wasn't saying that to be cruel, though it was a perk in the back of my mind. I said it because I knew that he would force himself to look at me, and if he did it would be a sign redemption. It was the same reason I looked at the blood.

I pressed my hand flat against the wall for more support and shrugged my eyebrows. "What were you two fighting about?" I asked, and he remained quiet, looking at me with guilt and shame. "Perhaps that's too personal a question to ask, but I think we've already crossed the boundary line, wouldn't you say?" I breathed through a smile. I was never very funny.

Glenn took the smallest of steps backwards, but I could still see his eyes trailing from one swollen part of my face to the other. I wondered if he would ever speak to me.

I wanted him to speak to me. If anyone was going to make me feel better, it would be the person who knew _exactly_ what I was going through.

But for him to speak to me, I knew we would have to find common ground.

"Do you remember asking me how many people I killed?" I knew he did. Gotta love the melodrama of rhetorical questions. "In my seventeen years, I've only killed one person." Standing started to become too painful, so I leaned my body against the wall. I kept talking. "I killed the person who saved me and protected me more than I could ever repay. She was like a mother to me in every way." It was harder than I thought to get the words out.

"You didn't kill Lori," Glenn said with his eyes focused on my leg wound.

Oh, right.

"...Actually, I was talking about Carol, but... Good to know," I said with a shrug.

Glenn finally looked at me, and not just at my wounds.

"I loved Carol. She taught me how to be strong – in ways that Daryl and Rick couldn't. But no matter how hard I tried, I was never as strong as she wanted me to be. I was weak and she tried to kill me because of it. So I killed her." I tried not to think about the look in my father's eye from that day. "People either treated me like a kicked puppy, or a monster." I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and shrugged. "People tell me that her death wasn't my fault, and they're right. But it doesn't change the fact that I pulled that trigger. I killed her so I could live." I raised my chin and stared at him, trying to see if he looked at me like a monster or a kicked puppy; it was neither.

I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "We can do the most terrible things for ourselves and for the people we love." Before I didn't know what I was doing until I was doing it, but now I was completely sure. I forced myself off the wall and walked over to him and I saw him tense, but he didn't look away. I couldn't bring myself to touch him without fear of bringing back memories of that room, but I managed a nod; the kind Dad would give Daryl.

And then I said, completely aware of what I was saying, "I forgive you."

...

_As they walked along the train tracks, Daryl thought of what to tell Beth, and came up with nothing. He thought of what to tell her as they walked through the woods, and when they reached the car. Daryl kept thinking of what to tell her all the way up to the broken gates of the prison, and came up with nothing._

_Words were never Daryl's strong suit. _

_But he knew he had to be the one to tell her, and he was afraid of how she would react. She would cry, and fall apart. She would be happy, then sad and confused. She would be a mess, and there was nothing he could say to change that. Even if there was, he wouldn't know what it would be._

_Daryl didn't want to open the red door and see Beth's bright face and hopeful eyes be construed into a look of pain and confusion. _

_But when Daryl opened that door and stood inside the communal area of C block, he did not see his beloved Beth. He saw no one. _

_All he saw was a small pool of blood in the middle of the floor._


	35. Screams

Chapter 35:

Screams

_Beth paced around the room, holding her overly large stomach as she did. It was tiring and hurt her feet, but her anxiety for the others weighed on her so much, she just had to pace. _

_Beth looked towards Abraham who sat atop the table, sharpening his blade with another blade. He seemed completely relaxed, which didn't help Beth at all, because he was always relaxed. Even when he shouldn't be._

_With Daryl, she knew exactly when to be relaxed, and when to start running. Now that he wasn't here, she never felt so anxious and alone. _

_Beth started humming to herself – a Tom Waits song that nobody judged her for liking. Over the years, she learned to sing in order to cope. Whenever Judith disappeared, she became a regular jukebox that never shut up. _

"_How long has it been?" Beth huffed, tapping her hand rhythmically against her belly. _

_Abraham smiled up at her, mid-sharpen. "A couple hours. They'd have reached the tracks by now." He grinned at her. "Judith's a fighter. She'll be fine, darlin'." _

"_Sure," Beth said in doubt. "Sure."_

_And for a moment, she thought maybe he was right. Beth always said that you never knew... When they escaped from Terminus, everyone she loved turned out to be still alive. Why couldn't Judith be? And if Judith was anything like Rick or Daryl, she was fine. _

_You never know._

_For all Beth knew, maybe her sister was alive somewhere. Just maybe. For another moment, Beth felt better. She at least felt good enough to slow her pace down._

_..._

_Nothing in the proceeding two hours had changed, but Beth's pacing had started back up. Abraham had already sharpened his knives, and was now looking at diagrams on giving birth. It was a book Judith gave him because she didn't much trust his hick farmer experience. He chuckled to himself in memory of the sarcastic comment that followed. _

"_Damn, that girl's got a sense of humor," he said through his thick graying ginger moustache. _

_He continued to smile down at the folded book as he spoke. Not necessarily to Beth, but just to the room. "Y'know, no matter what I taught that girl 'bout fightin', she always found some way to teach me somethin'," Abe said, seeing Beth pacing back and forth from the corner of his eye. _

_She just kept humming some tune in response. He thought it might've been The Beatles._

"_I was a sergeant in the army. Did two tours, and her balls are still bigger than mine." Abraham turned the page to another diagram of a vagina. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really seen one outside of this book. Abe turned his head to the side and frowned before turning the page._

"_I remember when she was seven and first managed to beat me. Lil' girl kicked me in the shin!" He chuckled at the memory, still seeing Beth pacing across the room. Her humming continued. "Took me down by kickin' me, _BAM, _right in the balls." Abraham chuckled again, then flipped another page that was just full of words. "You got any ol' stories you wanna share?" Abe asked. The humming stopped. "Might get your mind off things..." Beth didn't reply, so he stopped reading. _

"_Beth?" He turned his head around, "Darlin'?" _

_Before he saw her, he heard her. At first Beth was humming, non-stop and it soothed him. But the humming didn't stop so much as turn into a loud, agonising groan. Then he saw Beth collapse to her knees while clenching at her stomach._

_..._

"_Push!" _

_This was the only word Beth had heard what seemed like a thousand times too many. Beth tried to see the positive side in things, like when someone was being nice, but with a human body emerging from her uterus, she found it a tad difficult to feel anything other than anger._

"_Shut up!" She growled, but through the pain and huffing and puffing it came out more as a muted squeak. _

"_Sorry," Abraham said with the sternest expression Beth had ever seen. Guess when two lives were in his hands, he wasn't so cheery. "Beth, nothin's happening, you gotta push harder."_

"_I'm trying!" She screamed as her fingernails clawed into her thighs. Sweat and tears poured from her face onto the cement floor below her. _

_Abraham grunted to himself in frustration because he knew what she needed to do. "Beth, the baby's breech."_

_Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but in her mind they were wide with fear. "What? What does that mean?!" _

_Abraham shook his head. "It's fine, you jus' gotta push a lot harder."_

_She did, and she screamed. Nothing happened. _

_Abraham resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his hands; he needed to keep clean. "Okay," he sighed, "You gotta let it out, Beth."_

_She growled lightly in a frustrated response. _

"_Now," he said evenly, though his heart was pumping more than when he was near a herd of walkers. "Here's what you're gonna do, darlin'... On the count'a three, you are gonna scream as loud as you can and push." _

"_But the walkers," Beth cried meekly. _

_Abraham rolled his eyes. "You wanna get this som'bitch out, or not?"_

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Beth screamed. For seventeen years, she had been as quiet as possible. One loud noise can get you killed. The loudest she got was from a broken bone and even then, she forced herself to mute it. So she couldn't help but grin in satisfaction before screaming so loud that Abe almost fell backwards. _

_But when that scream ended, the noise was replaced by loud, hungry growls and bangs against the door._

_Walkers._

_Beth knew never to scream._

_..._

"_You're fine, Beth," Abraham breathed from between her legs. Black spots began to cloud her vision, but could see him holding something, and could hear the chink of a knife being picked up from the floor. "The baby's fine."_

_Beth's cries of pain were replaced with cries of fear. _

_And the cries of her baby._

"_Thank you," she blubbered, falling from her elbows, and covering her face with her hands. "Thank you, God," she hissed through a grateful grin._

_She heard him chuckle again. "I prefer to be called Abe."_

_For one long moment, Beth was happy. She had never felt so much happiness in one moment before – not since she lost her sister. _

_But then the sound of walkers grew, as was the creaking of rusted metal of the door._

_..._

"_Hurry," Beth breathed to Abraham, but she didn't know what she was necessarily referencing. _

_The creaking of the door grew louder. Beth felt a tremor go down her spine when I ray of light beamed against her face from a crack in the door. _

_She thought maybe things would be okay, because Abraham was still calm._

"_Holy shit..."_

_Shit._

_Abraham lunged to his feet and she saw him holding her small child, covered in blood and crying. He pressed the baby tightly to his chest and slapped a thick hand around her wrist. The black spots clouding her vision grew when she was pulled to her feet. _

_All she could see was the small ray of light on the floor increase, and the sound of creaking metal become louder. _

"_C'mon," Abraham grunted, pulling her away from the communal area, but Beth didn't know where to. _

"_...But my pants..."_

"_C'mon!" He ordered, and all she could think was of how much of a drill sergeant he sounded like. _

_The black spots grew and she could see less and less. Her legs felt like jelly as he pulled her through some sort of area. She vaguely heard the sound of bars slamming shut. Her feeble hands wrapped around Abraham's beefy arm as she found herself falling forward._

_She could hear the sound of a baby screaming. _

_And before she collapsed to the floor, her head hitting the ground hard, she heard her child's scream. _

_The last thing Beth saw were the skinny, pale bodies of rotting corpses through metal bars. And then everything went black._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I get that these chapters are really short, but just remember that I have certain obligations. Plus there's this really hot guy... Anyways... Yeah...

Review?


	36. Vulnerability

Chapter 36:

Vulnerability

_Daryl's head whipped around the communal area from the pool of blood. He only allowed himself a second of stillness and fear before raising his crossbow and running past the blood._

"_BETH!" Daryl sprinted towards the open cell door before skidding to a stop at the sight of a walker. It turned a sharp corner on him so he slid to his knees before taking it down with a single shot. He stammered to his feet and kept moving. "BETH!" He shouted again._

_No reply._

_All he heard was his own heartbeat, his scared, heavy breathing and the low growls of walkers above him. This time he didn't go still in fear. He cocked his head up towards the railing above with his crossbow pointed. _

"_Move!"_

_Daryl didn't hear Rick until it was too late, seeing a walker falling from above towards him with it's arms twisted at weird angles. He didn't hear Rick, but he felt him when Rick rammed him body into his, pushing him out of the way. _

"_Let me go!" Daryl grunted angrily and he could feel his eyes threatening to water in fear. Beth was his only thought. Daryl tried to scramble to his feet and run towards the stairs but Rick held him back with a strong grip on his arm. "BETH!" He shouted again. "BE—" He stopped his pointless shouts at the sight of more walkers falling in front of them. At least they were out of the way. _

_Daryl lunged ahead and away from Rick towards his crossbow; the one that he let go off when he had the wind knocked out of him. Daryl heard Rick growl loudly followed by the sound of a blade slicing through meat and bones. _

_He felt an unnaturally strong grip on his ankle and Daryl flipped himself onto his back. He let out short panicking breaths as he did his best to kick him away. _

_Beth. He needed her. Alive._

_The walker's grip didn't loosen on him and for a moment time just stopped as he saw the walker's jaw open wide for his leg. Don't be still. Daryl flipped onto his stomach and reached his hand out for his crossbow, only a meter from his grasp. It wasn't loaded, but all he needed was an arrow._

_Daryl clawed at the floor and grunted as he reached forward. The walker's grip tightened and he knew he had less than a second. _

_For a second, Daryl could see Merle standing above him, the crossbow at his feet. What would Merle do? What would he say?_

"_Arrh!" Daryl kicked his heel into the walker's jaw with one heavy thrust and yanked his crossbow into his hands, whipping it and himself around and smacking the giant weapon into the side of the walker's face. _

_He whipped his head around instinctively looking to Merle for approval, but it wasn't him. Just another walker. He lunged himself forward to his feet while sliding an arrow free and shoving it through the walker's ear. Daryl stammered as the walker fell to the floor beneath him and kept moving, eliminating any walker that got in his towards the staircase. _

_Carl didn't exist. Rick didn't exist. The only person that Daryl could think of was Beth. _

"_BETH!" _

_..._

I didn't know how I was supposed to feel after forgiving Glenn for what he did to me. Probably because I didn't know I was going to until it was happening. I didn't feel better, or worse, but I did feel free. Almost like the giant weight sitting on my chest got a little lighter.

I tried to focus on that, instead of the guilt or fear that something would go wrong. I was an optimist though, so my hope of seeing Beth again trumped that. I made a mental note to get Abe to teach me all his fighting training to me again – in this community, I thought it could come in handy.

Tara had done her 'shift' on the wall and when I went to see her she acted all falsely cool and said she was gonna go for a walk and eat or something. We all had different ways of dealing and her's involved solitude. I wish I knew what mine was.

One thing I did know was that it involved knives.

I managed to find a place of solitude behind the back of a wooden building on the opposite side of Terminus, far away from the warehouse, the bloodstain, and that room with the metal door.

I used a knife to carve out an outline of a body, or walker, and circles for target areas on the head. It was crooked and the body was on an angle, but still pretty impressive for a girl with one eye swollen shut. At least there were no black spots, so I could see the shitty target.

I was no artist.

It felt good to throw my knives again – it gave the illusion that I was useful, when I clearly wasn't. If I may say so myself, my aim was _impeccable. _Knife throwing was something everyone in my family could do vaguely, but it was the one thing I wasn't taught, and one of the only things I taught myself.

After the second round of aiming my small throwing knives, I had to retrieve them, but the mere thought of moving my leg after the pain died down seemed pointless. I leaned down and slid the hunter's knife from out of my shoe, just like old times.

I twirled it between my fingers rather arrogantly before lifting it over my shoulder. I was about to throw when someone interrupted me and my own personal solitude.

"You're using the wrong knife for fighting." Max walked past me with his chin held high and his long hands shoved in his pockets, desperately trying to be cool.

I cocked a brow. "If you're trying to impress me, insulting my knives isn't gonna get you anywhere."

He walked further away, against the wall directly next to my walker target. It was like he was asking me to kill him. He shrugged his brow, still with the cool thing. "A hunter's knife is the combination of a saw and a blade."

I gritted my teeth. "Gee, Sherlock, thanks."

He grinned. "The serrated part gets stuck easily in their heads."

I sighed more heavily than intended while my raised hand dropped to my side. I twisted the handle in my grip.

"You should always use smooth blades," he concluded, then grinned proudly. He scoffed jokingly. "...Amateur."

I narrowed my glare on him, still twisting the knife in my hand. The corners of my mouth curled into a small, wry smile. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones who survive," he said with a weak smile. I would have been amused if it wasn't the truth.

Great. More guilt.

"Well," I said, softening my expression, "I promise to survive so long as your people don't kill me." I flashed him a smirk, but he just smiled back at me weakly, the vulnerability in his eyes was just as obvious.

He stared down at his shoes as he crossed his ankles and folded his arms, forcing himself to look cool and aloof again, which was far from convincing. "Your attempt at charming me doesn't make your ignorance about knives any less existent."

I gritted my teeth again. My tolerance for douchbaggery was low before, but now he was standing in front of me by a target while I was holding a knife. Clearly he was stupidly naive.

"Little boy, I've been killing walkers since I could crawl and I've taken down more walkers with this knife than you ever will." I didn't know this for certain, but I knew I wasn't overplaying my hand. Max was sweet and innocent by nature. There was no way in hell he was a prized killer.

Unfortunately.

He frowned. "Do you always come off as this arrogant?" He made a delicate gesture with his hand.

I twisted the knife in my hand more. My knuckles went white. "Only to the feeble that compare." I forced a smile on my face, then cocked my brow again. "Now hop your ass off my target."

Max just remained there. Then he shook his head vigorously like a dog, his hair flopping around and in front of his eyes. "Nope." He looked at me through the waves of brown hair and smiled brightly. "You think you're that good, then surely you won't hit me."

I just blinked a lot.

Max laughed a little through his grin. "What?" He raised a brow. "I thought you were _that _good."

I clenched my jaw. "I am."

He made another delicate hand gesture. "Then by all means; don't let me get in your way."

I knew this was one of those crossroads moments that pretty much defined who I was. Doing this would be either confident and impressive, or just so stupid.

I knew I could do it. And I wasn't a pussy. Not doing this would make me his bitch, and to quote Daryl, 'I ain't nobody's bitch'... My god, his grammar sucked.

I could do it easily.

Every knife I'd thrown hit the target right in the head area. But there was one that fell to the floor from my miscalculation of strength. I could do it. Easy.

But I wasn't going to. Not being an idiot was something I knew I needed to work on, and why not start now? If I had started earlier, Michonne would still be alive. That being said, I couldn't just let him win this.

I smirked. I looked at his bright smile and shiningly hopeful eyes as I slowly raised the knife back over my shoulder. The smile remained until I took a small step forward.

"Ah, stop! Don't kill me!" Max flung himself aside, shielding his head with his arms, crouched in a pathetic little ball.

I grinned proudly at my triumph before bending over and sliding my knife back into my boot.

I win.

...

"_BETH!" Daryl yelled at the top of his lungs, fear in his tone. He whipped his head back and forth when he reached the top of the staircase. All he saw were walkers falling over the railing and even more coming after him. _

"_BETH!" His breath was heavy and his voice broke in sadness. _

_His eyes glazed over the small crowd of walkers coming towards him and he let his crossbow drop to his side, held limply in his weak grasp. He could live without Beth, but he would never want to. That was the truth, but in that moment, he didn't believe it. _

_And then he heard the muffled cry of a baby._

_Daryl's eyes grew cold. His hearing came back and his crossbow was raised. He didn't care what he was feeling or how broken he was inside, because he knew he didn't have the right to die. People needed him and he needed them._

_The number of walkers went down in seconds. He didn't know how many there were, but it didn't matter. Just another thing in the way of his screaming child. _

_He kicked the head of the last walker in his way, which remained stiff in front of a closed cell. It used to be his. Then he saw the most beautiful sight in the world. Life didn't suck, anymore – it was never ugly. _

_Because before his blue, unblinking eyes was his friend, his wife and his child. _

"_Beth."_

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Just a quick shout out to Annierosewood who gave me an awesome review, as well as using the word eloquent properly in a sentence. That was awesome.


	37. Just friends

Chapter 37:

Just friends

That night, I didn't sleep. Sleep always came naturally to me, but not tonight, and it was pissing me off. Glenn had put us in the hospital areas temporarily and I stayed in the same hot cot as before. Every ten minutes or so I would look over and see Tara in the cot next to me, snoring away. Her back was to me, but I could hear her soft breathing and slight snoring that was more cute than annoying. It usually soothed me to sleep, but not this time.

I could hear everyone else outside the windows – it was still early, but I guess being hated by an entire community really tires you out.

I sat up in bed and lifted the sheet off my wounded leg. It was still aching, but at least now it just came in waves so I had a few seconds of relief before the pain came back. The heat made wearing anything unbearable so I shoved the blanket down near the end of the bed and swung my legs off the bed so the cool pavement touched my feet.

I stood up and walked towards the high window, closer to Tara. I wasn't tall enough to see anything through it, but I saw the flickering light from a fire, and I could hear quiet laughing. I can't remember the last time I heard my family laugh in peace. I didn't know how long it would be until we all did again.

I stared up at that barred window for a bit, concentrating mostly on the bars. It made me feel trapped and uneasy – not emotions I handled well. So I looked to Tara. Her body faced me, her arms wrapped around her body like a safe little cocoon. A part of me wanted her to wake up just so I could see her sweet brown doe eyes.

Anyone's eyes that weren't Michonne's.

"Oh, man, I'm boring myself..." I limped past her back to my cot in frustration.

"'Scuze me?"

I already slumped down against the mattress when Max appeared, his slim figure leaning against the door frame with a plate of food in his hands. I held my leg as I shuffled my back towards the wall to lean against. Then I just stared at him, waiting for his reason for being here. He just stared back, saying nothing.

I raised my brow line. "What, dude?"

Max widened his eyes momentarily. "Jeez..." He walked towards me. "You make it _impossible_ to be nice to you." Max grinned and sat on the opposite end of the bed, rather intrusively.

I liked that.

"I brought you food," Max said as he placed it in front of me and folded his legs. I smirked in amusement when he rested his chin in his cupped hands and looked up at me adoringly.

"Thanks," I said warily, staring down at one of the carrots cut up into sticks. My hands hovered over them, though.

Max grinned and even in the dark I could still see the light in his eyes. "Um... Relax, I removed the explosives from them."

I looked from him to the carrots. "My hero," I said flatly.

He stared at me. "Just shut up and eat the carrots."

I snorted through a grin. "Sorry," I said, then nibbled at the end of a carrot. To be honest, I was still pretty hungry seeing I threw most of my food on the bitch.

For the next half hour he just sat across from me and watched me nibble slowly on carrots. But there was no silence; it was filled with whispers about who would win in a fight, Superman or Supergirl.

When half the carrots on the plate were gone, I set it aside on the small table between my cot and Tara's.

Max frowned. "Full already?"

I looked back over to Tara whose face I couldn't see, but the rise and fall of her shoulders when she breathed. I found myself smiling. "No, but Tara will be hungry when she wakes up."

When Max didn't say anything, I pulled my eyes away from Tara's sleeping state. I was confused at how he was looking at me. It was a new kind of discomfort.

"What?"

Max glanced down at his shoes. "You and Tara," he looked back up at me, "You're just friends, right?" He forced a weak smile onto his face. "Or are you guys..." He trailed off and shrugged. "You know..."

I swallowed hard and looked from Max to Tara to Max. "Um..." I shrugged and frowned. I hadn't really thought about it, or about Tara in _that_ way. I was thankful she was asleep.

"We're just friends."

...

_Just friends..._

_When Tara stared ahead and heard that boy ask what she and Jude were, her breath caught. She remained still and quiet in fear of them knowing she was awake and aware. When Judith began her response with a thoughtful 'um', Tara's heart gave a leap and her eyes widened. _

"_We're just friends."_

_That one sentence nearly killed her. Any shred of hope visible in her open doe eyes was gone and replaced with tears threatening to fall. _

_Just friends._

_What did Tara expect to hear? Of course Judy couldn't like her! They were family; sisters. And yet Tara still had to quietly clamp her mouth shut to mute her small whimpers as she stared ahead into the empty space. _

_Just friends._

_Those two words ringed in her head, and every time, she felt even worse, like someone shoved a knife in her gut and kept twisting. Tara's hand remained clamped over her trembling lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. When she opened them a tear fell over the arch of her nose down her olive coloured cheek._

_Only one tear fell for Judith. The tears that followed fell for everyone else. Perhaps this is how Tara dealt._

_...Just friends..._

_..._

The next morning, I awoke at the crack of dawn, but not by choice. The loud sound of Tara's hand slapping against the table for her knife woke me up.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and propped myself up by my elbows and stared at her back. "Hey," I grunted softly, still tired and out of it.

Tara sat on the edge of her bed with her back to me, lacing up her shoes. I could hear Tara take a breath before replying. "Hi," she said stiffly, and I frowned.

I coughed uncomfortably and sat up, rubbing at the back of my head. My brown hair had tangled in my sleep and when I scratched at my scalp, I could feel the crusted blood under my fingertips.

I needed a bath.

"You get any sleep last night?" I asked. "Or were you too busy fantasizing about lesbians?" I joked dryly. Not my best material, but I _just_ woke up.

Tara finished lacing her black boots and stood up. "I got enough."

I swung my legs over the edge and stared down at my wound with the bandage over it. It hurt just as much as before, but not more so I knew it was healing. Even so, I didn't want to look at the grossness of it.

But I knew it would be an awesome grossness.

She started tugging on a baggy green t-shirt over the black singlet that showed off her abs through the fabric.

I stood up in my denim shorts and started snaking my belt from the floor through it's loops. I sat back down and started lacing up my own black boots. Tara and I used to have contests about who had the least blood stains on their shoes.

"You gonna go man the wall again?" I asked her, glancing up through my strands of hair.

She tucked the green shirt in the back of her black jeans, barely even glancing at me. "Yep. They always could use more people."

I straightened up and frowned at her again. "...Okay..." I glanced at the side table between our two cots. The carrots remained untouched, even though Tara almost always ate my food, whether I was done with it or not.

I stood up, a sharp pain shooting through my leg. When Tara turned to walk away, I held her gently by the arm, turning her to face me. "Tara, you okay?" I asked, but I knew that was a dumb question. Michonne had _just _died. Of course she wasn't okay, but why was she acting weird around me?

Finally, Tara looked at me. Her brown eyes were always warm and kind. But when Tara stared at me, they were cold and icy, like mine. I didn't know brown eyes could look like that. Especially not Tara's.

"I'm fine." Her jaw clenched and my hand dropped from her arm. Her eyes remained cold. "Buddy."

I wasn't a moron, but I remained stiff when I watched her walk away. I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes, because that was my reaction to everything. "Dammit," I breathed before heading after her. I hated it when Tara was cold with me, and I needed to know why.

By the time I reached the hospital exit, she was already through the warehouse, and by the time I reached the garage door, I had to ignore the limping pain in my leg and jog after her.

"Tara," I called out when she was closer.

Tara ignore me and kept walking. I heard birds chirping and saw the light blue sky with orange seeping into it.

"Tara," I called again, turning the corner sharply. It was too sharp a turn to handle with the sewn up hole in my leg so I stammered a little. But I skidded to a stop on my heels when I saw who was walking towards us.

Then I broke into a sprint.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Alright, I know these chapters are talking a bit longer, and they're shorter than most, but I have been... distracted... lately...

And a thanks to the person who stood up for Judith. I thought that was pretty rad.


	38. Words

Chapter 38:

Words

_The sun had set long ago, but even though Daryl and Beth couldn't see much beyond the 17-year-old lanterns, they didn't care to. Daryl's eyes never left the light blue of his daughter's. _

_Daryl laid in the bed of one of the cell's with his back against the wall. He had one arm draped over his propped up leg, his hand stroking the small blonde hairs of the baby's head. Beth curled up against him with their little girl in her pale arms, wrapped up in Judith's old blue blanket with the yellow duckies on it. It didn't matter that there was a chunk missing from it, she was so small. _

_Daryl hadn't slept properly in over two days, and Beth just gave birth. The two were almost delirious with lack of sleep and yet there eyes remained wide awake and locked on their little bundle of joy. _

_Beth smiled down sweetly at the child, her pink cheek pressed against Daryl's chest. She could hear his calm heartbeat. "She has your nose."_

"_Mmhm... Good thing the similarities stop there," he whispered huskily. He felt Beth grin against his chest and he glanced down at the top of her head. He traced a finger down the small braid in her messy hair held together with a piece of string. _

_Daryl found himself smiling. "She's beautiful, Beth." His smile didn't disappear when staring down at his child. Her wide eyes stared back at him. A little spit bubble formed in the corner of her mouth and he popped it with his finger, then cupped her little head gently. _

"_She doesn't have a name yet," Beth whispered, slowly moving her head to look up into Daryl's eyes. The same steel blue as her daughter's. Daryl stared back, seeing her hope and naively sweetness. Daryl's smile disappeared when he looked down at her, but his heart ached. _

_He didn't think he could ever be this happy. Not since his brother died. Or since Carol died. Or Michonne. _

_Daryl tried to ignore the guilt inside of him and when he stared down into his new born daughter's eyes, it wasn't hard. "Hm," Daryl grunted in reply. "Lil' Asskicker Junior?"_

_Beth gave a small laugh and stared back down at her sweet little face. She had Beth's plush lips and wide doe eyes. Beth's smile weakened, but the joy she felt didn't. _

"_Maggie." _

_A lump formed in Daryl's throat. She didn't know._

_Beth's smile grew. "We should call her Maggie."_

_He had to tell her. Daryl had to tell Beth that his sister was alive; that she tortured Judith; that Michonne was dead, and it was Maggie's fault. Daryl had to tell her. _

_Beth felt his body stiffen and she raised her chin to look at him again. "What's wrong?"_

_Daryl blinked away whatever pain had hit him and the corners of his mouth raised into the weakest of smiles. Daryl shook his head gently, then wrapped his draped arm around her stomach and child, pulling her closer against him. _

"_Let's just go to sleep."_

_Daryl would tell her. He would; but for now, he just needed to enjoy this perfect moment. And he needed her to enjoy it with him. These moments were rare in the old world, and now they were almost impossible. But when they happened, it was stronger than any moment you could have ever experienced in the old world. They were rare._

_Daryl couldn't bring himself to ruin this moment. _

_Beth looked back down at their baby and smiled as the child's steel blue eyes began to flutter closed. She raised the child to her lips and kissed her forehead gently before cradling her in her arms again. _

"_Don't let the bedbugs bite, Maggie," Beth whispered, before closing her eyes with her child resting in Beth's and Daryl's arms. _

_That night, Daryl didn't sleep. _

_..._

_Everyone needed their sleep that night but Rick wouldn't allow it for himself and took watch Daryl normally would have offered, but Rick refused to give him the chance. Abraham felt he could use a night's sleep to, according to him, get the scarring images out of his head. Carl... Well, Carl intended to, but the truth of the matter was that Rick didn't trust his mental state. Not after Michonne._

_So Rick stayed up, and it wasn't hard. Because Rick knew the minute he closed his eyes, he would see Michonne's. Not just Michonne, but also Glenn and Maggie, and his daughter. No matter how hard he tried, the one image that kept resurfacing was Judith's. The fact that half of it was purple and bloodied, and the other half glared at him. _

_Needless to say, the sight of Daryl, Beth and their newborn baby entering the communal area was a welcomed distraction. The sun wasn't even up yet._

_Rick slung his bow over his shoulder, rose from the metal tabletop and grinned. "Look who it is—"_

_Beth shushed him with a finger to her lips. "She's still sleeping." _

_Rick continued to grin, looking from her to the baby to Daryl, and the two exchanged a mutual look of respect only fathers could understand. _

_Beth gently rocked her child as she walked over to Rick with a proud smile on her face. Rick rubbed his clammy hands against his dirt stained jeans when Beth stopped directly in front of him. He stared down at the baby, now understanding how Daryl felt about Judith._

_Protective. Loving. Proud. _

_Beth raised her chin and looked up at Rick who stared down at him. Her smile seemed more sweet and serene than before. "Do you wanna hold her?"_

_Rick's grin grew and he frowned momentarily. "Of course," he breathed happily and gently started to take the sweet little girl in his strong arms. _

_She smelled like babies should. _

_No matter how filthy the world got, that new baby smell never changed. _

"_Hey, baby girl," he whispered through his smile as he cradled her in his arms. She made a small 'mm' noise and her little lips parted as she slept. He could see the Beth in her, as well as Daryl's noise. _

_He continued to smile down at her innocent little face with the pale complexion and pink cheeks. "She's beautiful." Rick dragged his eyes away from the sweet little thing he cradled in his slightly sweaty arms to Beth who now stood by Daryl's side with her hand clasped in his. _

"_What's her name?" _

_He looked to Beth who looked on the verge of tears of happiness. She wiped the end of her nose with the showing skin of her arm. "Maggie."_

_Rick's smile didn't leave his face until Beth's eyes left his. Then his ice blue eyes locked with Daryl's who stared back at him sternly. The two fathers shared another look, but not one of pride._

_..._

_Rick wasn't sure what Beth had been told, but told her the very least possible with Daryl eyeing him the entire time. All she knew was that Terminus was safe, and that that's where they were going. Neither Abraham nor Beth knew anything about Michonne or Maggie and Glenn, or Judith. They knew nothing, and it was up to Daryl for them to know._

_There were no questions, no doubts; just relief in knowing there was a safe haven for the group._

_It was by Beth's request that they left before the sun came up. The longer they stayed in that prison, the less safe they felt. The sky showed no sign of a sun, but was becoming a light blue by the time they came close to the tracks. _

_Beth held the baby tightly against her chest with Maggie wrapped up tightly in a blanket and Judith's spare baby clothes. _

_Daryl, Abraham, Carl and Rick carried everything else, including whatever baby supplies were around, including cans of mashed peas, baby formula and a stuffed blue bunny with one marble eye missing. _

_Abraham and Carl walked with her between them, acting as guards with Daryl and Rick ahead, leading them through the maze of trees. Rick made sure they were out of ear shot of Beth before speaking to Daryl._

"_You didn't tell her."_

_Daryl didn't answer._

"_What are you gonna do?"_

_Daryl still didn't answer._

_Rick sighed heavily, keeping his eyes locked ahead for any walkers. The fear of the baby's screams made everyone more alert than they've needed to be for years. _

"_You gotta tell her."_

_For a moment, Rick thought Daryl was insistent on ignoring him, but then he spoke. "I ain't good with words."_

_Rick didn't say anything, just gave him a look of expectancy. _

_Daryl only glanced at Rick for a single second – if that. He chewed at his lip before shaking his head. "I jus' ain't good with words."_


	39. Illusions

Chapter 39:

Illusions

_The gates of Terminus were getting closer and closer, and Daryl was conflicted. With his child unsafe and vulnerable in his wife's arms, he wanted more than anything to be in Terminus where he knew he could protect them both. But Daryl knew that the closer he got to Terminus the closer he came to telling Beth the truth. _

_All of it._

"_Walker," Rick hissed and immediately, Daryl swung his arm around and shot an arrow clean through a walker's head. Daryl put the edge of his boot against it's feeble head as he slid his arrow from it's eye socket. When it came out, so did the walker's eye. _

"_Ew," Beth whispered with a grimace and Daryl gave her a look. She blushed and smiled sheepishly while Daryl shook his head and got the eye off his arrow with his hand, wiping his fingers against his already disgusting shirt. "Come here," he said walking towards her with his arm reaching for her face. _

"_Gross," Beth grinned kicking him away gently with her baby tucked tightly in her arms. Daryl smiled slightly to himself, and Beth knew he was. _

_This was another one of those rare moments._

_And the realisation of telling Beth the truth came back, and that happiness was gone; traded with dread. _

_Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, his smile gone. "Keep movin'."_

_They did. The impending doom that Terminus was less than half an hour away weighed on Daryl and that conflict came to mind again. Every step further down the track made his heart thud slightly in his chest. _

_He had to tell her._

_Another ten minutes went by, and really quickly. Every so often, Daryl exchanged a glance with Rick who gave him a concerned, warning look, making the weight on his chest just worse._

"C'mon, Darlina. You too much of a pussy to talk to lil' girls, now?"

_Daryl gritted his teeth at the image of Merle in front of him. _I preferred it when you was dead,_ he thought sarcastically and he could hear the echo of his brother's cruel laugh. _

"Aw, don't be like that..." _Daryl could see the curling of his wry smile. _"Jus' lookin' out for you, little brother."

_Daryl snorted quietly to himself and thought, _Since when?

"Since always." _Daryl wished he was alone at that point. He loved Rick like a brother, and he loved Beth and his child more, but solitude was one thing Daryl missed. Especially in times of moral conflict when he reluctantly needed his asshole of a brother. _

"Don't be a coward, lil' brother. Talk to your woman."

_Daryl didn't say, or think, anything in response._ _But he could see his brother's sneer. _"Ain't you always been the sweet one?"

_Daryl gritted his teeth. He always hated it when his brother called him 'sweet' because it was always an insult. But the longer he spent time with the group, the prouder he became of it – but he never let anyone know that. Only the illusion of his brother did._

"You jus' gonna let your lady walk into Terminus with no warning?"

No,_ Daryl thought angrily, his teeth gritting. _I jus' ain't good with words,_ he thought back to Merle. _

_He could hear his brother's snort, much like his own. _"That's the only thing you're good with, Darlina. Leave the huntin' and killin' skills to the real men." _Daryl could hear his old man-like laugh and could see his hollow smile._

"_Jackass," Daryl growled under his breath and he knew Beth heard him because of the confused frown she wore. She smiled at him, but still wore that expression as she walked while bouncing their baby in her arms. His daughter began stirring a little, making small groaning sounds. _

_He tensed. _

"_Daryl?" Beth looked worried. _

_A long moment went by while Daryl remained silent, just stared ahead at the imaginary Merle who stared back. Daryl could feel Beth's eyes on him and the concern that came with it. Out of the corner of his cool eye, he could see Rick staring at him, too. _

"_Stop," Daryl spoke, and instantly they all did. Daryl glanced from Rick over to Merle who was now smirking. He lowered his crossbow then shrugged his across his shoulder so the strap pressed into his chest. "C'mere," he grunted with his arms extended for the baby. _

_Gently, Beth handed her over to him and he tried to suppress a joyful smile. "Hey, sweetheart," he cooed quietly so only his daughter could hear. Daryl held her against him and walked over to Rick, who knew what he was doing._

_Rick took the child, exchanging a respectful nod with Daryl before he took Beth by the arm gruffly further away from the others. _

"_What's goin' on?" She asked as Daryl let go of her. He glanced over her shoulder at the thick row of trees that stood between them and the others on the tracks, seeing if they had enough privacy. _

_Beth's hint of a smile disappeared and she looked up at her husband expectantly. "Daryl, what's wrong?"_

"_There's, uh... S—somethin' I gotta tell you." When he saw that naive hope in her eyes he had to look away._

_Her eyes opened wider. "Well, what?" She nudged him sweetly with her elbow. "Come on, Daryl, tell me," she tried to say clearly, but her voice croaked a little. _

_He felt a lump form in his throat and forced himself to look at her and not the ground. Merle would have laughed at him for that. But the moment he looked into her eyes, he regretted it. _

_Her eyes were broken. That sadness hidden showed sometimes, and it was tragic when it did. Ever since Maggie—_

"_Is she dead?"_

_Daryl blinked. His throat was dry and he couldn't find the words. _

"_Judith," Beth said stiffly, no sign of tears forming in her eyes. "Is Judith dead?"_

"_No," Daryl coughed. A harder task than he thought. "Judith is safe."_

_Beth's folded arms dropped to her sides and remained still by her sides. She was being tough, just like he had taught her. "Who, then?"_

"_Michonne."_

_He watched as Beth closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again. She was blinking away the tears before there even were any to blink away. Stoically, Beth nodded her head and said "Okay." _

_This was how Beth coped with death. When Bob and Tyreese died, this was how she acted. The same with Sacha. The last time Beth let herself cry over a death was Maggie's. _

_Daryl swallowed. _

"_There's somethin' else," he grunted. _

_Beth stared up at him with as little emotion as possible, but he could still see the pain hidden behind her big blue eyes. "What?"_

Maggie's alive_, Daryl thought to himself because the words couldn't leave his mouth. It was too impossible a sentence to get out. "Um..."_

"_Hey," Beth said with a crease between her brows. She reached up and pressed her palm against Daryl's cheek. His instincts were to push her away, but this wasn't information that would pain him. He let her keep it there, and lowered his chin when she kissed him gently. _

_Daryl could almost feel Merle's eyes on him, pushing him to tell her. _

"_Daryl," she whispered, staring up at him as she pulled away. Daryl didn't let her pull away; he pressed his forehead against her's and stared down at her weak and broken smile. "Whatever it is—"_

"_Beth—"_

"_Don't tell me," she said and Daryl pulled back, staring down at her with confusion. She let her hand fall from his face back to her side stiffly. She raised her chin and clenched and unclenched her hands. _

_She was being tough, just like he taught her to. It hurt him, though. Whenever she was like this, it made him remember the day Zach died, and she said 'I don't cry anymore, Daryl'. He made the mistake of making her think forcing away her emotions was the tough thing to do, but that was just Daryl. _

_She raised her chin further and let out a heavy breath. "Whatever it is... Don't tell me. I will find out for myself and I will handle it." She forced herself to smile. "I know you're not good with words." She reached for Daryl's limp hand and gave it a squeeze. "You can't be good at everything, Daryl." _

_Daryl forced a smile with a quirk of his mouth then watched as she walked back the way they came. His eyes trailed her small figure and large stomach while she went to Rick and held their child again. Daryl was starting to feel some sort of storm of emotions, and he looked over his shoulder, seeing the illusion of his brother leaning against a tree. Merle shook his head, looking at him mockingly and with shame. _

_Daryl blinked away whatever emotions were surfacing and headed after them, spitting at the floor, like when he and Merle used to._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **...I know, another shotty chapter that took forever, but it was necessary. Sorta. Don't worry, shit will happen soon enough.


	40. Coward

Chapter 40:

Coward

The very second I saw Beth I went running, but I only managed to run like three steps before pain went shooting up and down my leg. I ended up stumbling towards them and collapsing slightly against Beth.

"Beth!" I gasped through the pain with the biggest grin I could manage. I didn't realise the happiness wasn't mutual until I took a proper look into her eyes which stared at me with obvious sadness and sympathy... Or was it empathy?

"Oh my god, your—your face!" She breathed and gently reached out for my purple and black swells. My grin faltered and I had the sudden urge to turn away; not so that she couldn't see me, but so I couldn't see her. Seeing Beth in pain was worse than being in pain myself.

When her small, pale hand hovered around my swollen eye, I forced myself to laugh it off and batted her hand away gently. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in and went for the first thing that came to mind to get her to stop looking at me like that. "Have you lost weight?" Throughout the pregnancy, I had asked her this often to either mock her or make her feel better, but then I actually stared down at her stomach.

I frowned down at it. "Jesus, what happened to your circumference?"

Beth grinned, hope back in her eyes and that made me grin. Then she looked over her shoulder and I followed her eyes to Daryl who stood behind her and Dad.

I didn't notice the others because, no matter how much I loved them all, Beth was just... the most important, I guess?

Honest to god, my heart stopped. When Beth stepped aside I saw what Daryl was holding; what he had replaced with his crossbow.

A baby.

"Awww!" My arms extended towards Daryl, totally ignoring Beth and all the others surrounding me; even Daryl. I limped right up to Daryl who cradled the little one in his giant muscular arms. He looked like a giant huggable teddy bear; the last time I saw him like that was when I was a kid and he held me, or picked me up. I miss being able to sit on his shoulders and have piggy-backs.

Even serious ones.

"She's so tiny!" I squeaked when I finally got close enough to the little bundle of joy. It was clearly a girl because she looked like a mini-Beth, but with the same steel blue eyes that Daryl had. And his nose. I reached out my hand to touch her and her cute chubby face, but then she made a noise and I yanked my hand back, pressing it against my mouth with widening eyes.

I looked to Daryl. "What did I do?" I squeaked again – what the hell was going on with my voice?

He snorted a laugh and I saw the warmth in his happy expression, beneath all the permanent sadness. "Nothin'." He raised her head a little bit so the little thing stared right at me with wide, unblinking eyes. "She's a baby. S'what they do."

I'd never seen a real baby up close before. I always saw them from a distance when I was back in our community in Washington, but I never had the desire to actually go near the things. But this was baby Beth!

And she was so tiny!

"Wanna hold 'er?"

My wide eyes locked on Daryl's with my fist still pressed tightly against my mouth. It was a mixture of delight and fear at the offer of holding the baby. I eventually lowered my hand and looked from him to the child with a wary grimace. "But... What if I, like, _break_ her, or something?"

Daryl snorted and I gave him a look. He didn't even reassure me before gently handing over the child which I took in my arms. Thankfully, my arms were totally clean, strong and unharmed. And yet, I still feared dropping the thing.

Beth and Daryl would never forgive me.

I cradled the baby in my arms and I noticed the blanket she was wrapped up in was my old one. I grinned. Something of mine was hers. "Hi," I breathed through my happy grin. "Hi," I said again, because I knew the child wasn't old enough to appreciate any good wit.

I looked at Daryl with a bright smile. "So what's the kid's name?" My smile grew. "'Lil' Asskicker' is already taken, y'know." It was only for a flash of a second, but I saw the darkness and discomfort in his expression. I was curious why, but then Beth explained why.

"Maggie," she said and I turned my body to look at her, confused. "Her name's Maggie."

A lump formed in my throat and I looked back to Daryl who had the same expression I did. I forced a smile on my face, and part of it wasn't forced, but I don't know why. "Okay," I said as I took the baby under her arms and raised her towards Beth. "You take that," I said, making her frown, "And Daddy Daryl and I are gonna have a little chat," I said, looking at him with my forced smile, which he knew was obviously forced because of my glaring eyes.

When Beth had her child tucked safely in her arms, I turned around, smacked a grip on Daryl's bicep and yanked him towards the warehouse.

"The hell you think you're doin', girl?" He growled instinctively. But because it was me, he didn't remove himself from my grip, which he could have done easily.

I sighed tiredly. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm doing."

"Best let me go," he growled, but in more of a warning way than a threatening one. I was happy to let him go, and when I did he stammered a bit. He scanned the surroundings of the warehouse before looking to me through squinting eyes.

I stood up straight and crossed my arms over my chest. I stared at him sternly, and I'm sure I looked tougher than usual when combining my stance, stern stare and the fact that my face was beaten black.

I raised my chin. "Explain."

"What?" He sneered, which wasn't cruel of him, just defensive.

I rolled my eye and scoffed. "The name, dumbass." I saw his look of shame and I softened my expression a bit, but still looked tough. "You didn't tell Beth about Maggie."

He just stared at his shoes for a moment, then shook his head ever so slightly.

I raised a surprised brow. "Why not?"

Daryl took a long moment before mumbling, "I ain't good with words."

I rolled my eye again. "We know." And we did. Daryl sucked with words and generally only expressed them when he was angry, beaten on, had a gun in his face, or drunk.

"But it's _Beth_, Daryl," I said in surprise with a dramatic hand gesture. I frowned up at him, folding back my arms. "How d'you think she's gonna handle it when she sees her sister is not only alive, but responsible for—" I stopped myself, because I didn't want to say torturing me, because when I forgave Glenn, I also forgave Maggie. "... Stuff," I finished weakly. I didn't want to say Michonne, either, because that was yet another thing I understood. I chewed on my swollen bottom lip for a moment. "She's too fragile."

Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at me, his chin still lowered like a sad puppy. "She's tougher than you think."

I frowned and clicked my tongue. "...And... You're measuring this toughness by what, exactly?" I cocked a brow. "Her tiny, tiny height? Or the circumference of her big naive eyes?"

Daryl's head cocked up and he stared down at me. I didn't feel so tough anymore. "You're forgettin' it was Beth who got us outta Terminus in the firs' place." He took a step towards me so I had to raise my chin higher to stare up at him. "Beth's tougher than y'all think."

That made me angry; like he suggested I didn't know Beth at all, or that I only knew her as well as anyone else in the group. But if he was right, then at least that would be good for Beth's sake. I hoped he was right.

Even so, I still stared at him coldly, then cocked a brow. "You sure about that?"

Already, I could see the doubt in his eyes. And that doubt grew when Maggie (Senior, I guess) appeared at the top of her metal staircase.

"Wha's goin' on?" She called, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was without shoes and wore a black singlet with no bra. I forgot how early it was for a moment, and when I looked outside I could see the sun was finally starting to rise.

Her appearance just increased the drama of the situation and I couldn't resist the eye roll that followed. At least I could suppress the bitter laugh, no matter how difficult a challenge it was.

Daryl stared up at her and I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down when he swallowed. He pressed his lips together in a tight line and did that blinky thing he did when he was anxious.

"Are you seriously gonna let her find out like _this?" _I asked him and he looked back to me coldly. There was still doubt in his blinking eyes. But he didn't say anything. I let out an exasperated breath. "Alright, if you don't tell her, I will." That was a lie – a bluff, actually.

"No," he snapped lowly.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "So you're gonna go tell her, then."

He didn't say anything, just stared past me with those blinking eyes.

I scoffed and at that point I really did consider telling Beth. "Daryl, you can't just let her walk into an... emotional ambush like that!" I frowned. "Why would you?"

He still didn't say anything and that just frustrated me even more.

"Is Beth here?" Maggie called down to us, her voice sounding more alert now.

"Silence!" I snapped, glaring up at her momentarily. I had forgiven her, but it didn't mean I would withhold my anger towards her – especially this early in the morning.

I looked back to Daryl who seemed rather indifferent to my outburst. "Look," I said a little more loudly, "It is not my place to tell Beth that her sister is alive. _You _married her," I growled, "_You_ impregnated her, okay? Not me! So you should tell her, or she will break."

He took a long time to say, "She's tougher than you think."

I squinted back at him. "So you're not gonna warn her..."

He didn't say anything. Again.

When I dragged him in here, I was more confused and disappointed than anything else. I don't know how I came to feel so outraged and... Betrayed.

I just stayed quiet, like he had as I stared up at him. I shook my head ever so slightly and that cold look I had before was gone. Now I just stared up at him with disbelief and anger.

"Coward," I sneered under my breath, loud enough so he could hear me. Then I turned on my heel and walked away towards the exit with the intention of telling Beth the truth.

That was my intention. I was going to do what Daryl couldn't but it turned out that I didn't need to.

Beth was there the whole time.


	41. Reunion

Chapter 41:

Reunion

Okay, one of the problems about being born during an apocalypse – other than the fact that I was _born during an apocalypse_ – is the fact that I never got to experience simple luxuries before my time. I never got to experience school or santa clause (by the way, how _dumb _does a kid have to be to believe someone could not only see everything you do, but get presents to all the kids in the entire world in one night?). I never experienced birthday cake, or an actual birthday, for that matter. Not once was I invited to a sleepover, nor did I ever go shopping for clothes – but I did go shopping for weapons and combat boots.

And one of the greatest pleasures I never got to experience was the miracle that was television.

But witnessing the reunion between Beth and Maggie was as close as I would get to watching a 'reality' TV show, or whatever Carl called it.

"...Beth?" Maggie breathed. From all the way down here I could still see her knuckles turn white when she gripped at the railing. I forgot that we never really told her the full detail about Beth and her condition.

I cocked my head back down to Beth. And the baby.

Her expression was blank. Her baby blue eyes were glossy, like she was about to cry, but they were empty. Beth's thin lips parted only slightly, and maybe I imagined it, but I think I saw her grip on her baby loosen.

"Okay, I'll take that," I blurted out, sounding unnaturally casual as my body lurched forward awkwardly. I slipped my arms through Beth's, taking away the baby as quickly and smoothly as possible. I didn't look at her, though.

Maybe I was afraid to. I didn't want to see Beth in pain.

I held the child tightly in my arms and stumbled back a bit, pretty much just trying to get out of the way; back to the sidelines next to Daryl.

I did look at him.

And it wasn't precisely a respecting look. When I saw him I felt like I had eaten something sour and I found myself scowling. I turned my attention back to Beth and Maggie when I heard the slight thuds of Maggie's bare feet against the metal steps.

I saw Beth as she loudly swallowed, forcing herself to ignore the obvious lump in her throat. She blinked, but the layer of gloss didn't leave her eyes.

"You're alive," she said and her voice was loud and even, which surprised me. "You're... not dead," she pointed out. A tad redundant, but whatever.

Beth just stood there and when Maggie reached the concrete floor of the warehouse, she broke into a run. Her arms pulled Beth against her and I could hear Maggie sobbing. I was curious if it was a sob of guilt, or joy. Maybe both.

But Beth didn't react. She stared at the wall ahead blankly with her arms by her side while I saw Maggie's chest rise and fall with sobs. When she pulled back I saw the tragic smile across her face. Okay, so sobs of joy.

Her shaky hands still clenched at Beth's arms as she stared at her sister. Beth just stared back, but then I saw her eyes noticeably shift to the end of the room, to a certain door. It was only for a second, but I saw a flash of anger in her eyes.

What did she know about that room?

Knowing Beth, I thought she'd cry, or hug the life out of her sister. I thought maybe she'd forgive her immediately, or break down and run away. What I didn't expect was for Beth's eyes to fall on me, then to smack her sister's arms away.

The anger was back.

Maggie looked from my beaten-to-shit face back to her sister's. The fear was clear. "Beth, it's not what you think," she croaked, and I noticed the tears had stopped. It was obvious that Maggie was a tough chick with not much time for dwindling on tedious emotions and problems like 'hey, my sister's alive'.

Beth just looked at her with gritted teeth and that small head shake. She took a step back from her and looked to me again. Her eyes didn't focus on Daryl once, and honestly I forgot he was there. Her gaze softened when she looked at me, but then went back to hard, cold and angry.

Beth stared at Maggie with an expression I knew all to well – I could never forget it.

"Don't you ever touch me again," Beth snapped through her gritted teeth. Maggie didn't allow herself to cry. But she did look to her sister pleadingly. "...Beth..." Maggie croaked, and it was barely above a whisper.

Beth took another step away from her sister, her fuming eyes not leaving her sister's broken ones. "You monster." That's all Beth said before turning away and running out of the warehouse.

When she said the word 'monster' I felt my gut sink. It hurt even though it had nothing to do with me. She didn't call me the monster, but Dad did. I could never forget the way he looked at me, and I was hoping to never see it again.

Now I had.

And from Beth, no less. I had no reason to feel anything towards Maggie, let alone anything kind, but I couldn't help feeling for her. I knew exactly how she felt and there was no forgetting that.

I watched as Maggie collapsed to her knees and I saw tears stream from her eyes, but there was no loud sobbing. She was just numb.

I looked to Daryl, remembering his existence, and the minute I did, the anger returned to me. It had increased. How Beth was feeling now, was not supposed to happen.

"Enjoying your handy-work?" I asked lowly and bitterly. Why did I say that? A pang of guilt formed in my chest when he looked at me. There was no point in making him feel worse than he already did.

"Shuttup," he sneered back before running after Beth. I deserved that.

But as I watched him go, I realised that both Daryl and Beth had left me with their baby and I felt my heart start to pound. Holding the baby was okay when I feared Beth would drop it or something, but not for longer than thirty seconds.

And now I was stuck with it. Her, I mean.

I stared down at the little creature, seeing that it was awake and staring up at me with round and hopeful eyes. I knew that hope from Beth and I feared I would never see it again. At least I could look down at this kid and see it. She made a sucking, moaning kinda sound and a spit bubble formed in the corner of her mouth. Then she smiled up at me.

I found myself smiling back.

...

_Daryl emerged from the warehouse garage door and whipped his head back and forth for his distressed wife. She needed him. "Beth," he called out, his voice quieter than he intended. When he heard sobbing coming from around the brick wall of the warehouse he jogged up to her._

"_Beth?" _

_There she was with her forehead pressed against her tightly fisted hands and her neck craned down. She knew he was there, and he didn't know what to do. Again. _

_But he forced himself to be there. He couldn't be a coward. _

"_Hey," he said hoarsely and quietly, pressing his hand gently on her shoulder. Immediately, Beth turned around and he flinched. Was she going to hit him? Or scream?_

_Neither._

_Beth pressed herself tightly against Daryl's chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her cries grew louder, and for a moment Daryl just stood there stiffly, before remembering it was beth. He was always uncomfortable with human contact – the only human contact Daryl got growing up was his father's fist pounding into his stomach, or his belt against his back. His brother wasn't much better._

_But this was Beth._

_Daryl hugged her, pressing her tightly against him, just keeping her close. He knew he didn't need to say anything. Daryl, at his best, said useful things in anger. The comforting things were rare because he never believed what he was saying. Beth knew this. _

_All he could do was be there for her._

_So he was. Daryl stood there with his arms holding Beth in place, her tears soaking his shirt. _

_The sobbing gradually got quieter and quieter, until completely stopping. That was all Beth needed. She pulled away and stared at the patch of tears she'd made in his shirt. She kept stepping back until reaching the wall. Then she looked at him. _

_Her expression was blank, like before; no anger, no pain. It was like they had drained out of her with those tears. _

_She really was tougher than people thought, and Daryl felt a surge of pride go through him._

_Beth stared at him for awhile, her eyes red and puffy, making the blue in them stand out all the more. Her fists unclenched and dropped to her sides. _

"_...Is Judith gonna be okay?"_

_Daryl took a moment to think about this before pressing his thin lips together in a line and bobbing his head. "Mh hm."_

_Beth stared ahead blankly, then a crease formed between her brows. "I named our daughter after her."_

_Daryl stared down at his shoes, before forcing himself to look at her. That was his fault and he needed to accept the consequences. _

_Her eyes widened when they snapped back up to Daryl. "We can still change her name, right? There's no rule about it?"_

_Daryl smiled weakly, staring down at his beautiful wife. "Got any ideas?"_

_She smiled, despite however she was feeling. That smile became a grin. "I picked the last one – your turn."_

"_Well," Daryl grunted, shrugging. "Can't be any worse, can it?" He cracked a small smile and that glare that formed at his quip broke into a smile of her own. She even managed a small laugh. Beth cocked a brow. "How 'bout Darlina?" She mocked. _

"_No," Daryl grunted before cracking another slight smile. But his wife's smile faded and instinctively he raised his arm. She leaned into his side and he rested his arm across her shoulders, keeping her close. _

_Beth was tough. She could handle this._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yes, another short chapter that took a long time to upload, but my personal life had gotten a tad in the way. Trust me, I'm as bummed out as you guys are by this...

Oh, and if there are gonna be shipping names for Tara and Judith, I personally prefer Tarith... Got a nice ring to it... Cool! I never though I'd have the shipping power, before...!


	42. Simpleton

Chapter 42:

Simpleton

I was alone with the tiny tiny infant after Maggie left. I didn't know where she went, nor did I care. The longer I held the thing, the faster my heart raced.

I had never been so aware of my exuding of sweat before. Yes, it was gross.

I frowned down at the child who stared up at me with it's mouth hanging open. "Witch, what have you done to me?"

The baby didn't respond and I scoffed. "...Simpleton."

"Dude, you can't talk to a kid that way."

I didn't realise the beauty of being alone until I wasn't anymore. I stared up at Max, and rolled my eyes. "It can't understand me."

Max stood against the wall by the entrance with his ankles crossed and his hands tucked in his black jeans. "'It'?" He lowered his chin and arched his brows. "Did you just refer to the baby as 'it'?"

"No," I blurted out.

Max laughed. "So clearly you're not a baby person."

I shrugged, staring back down at the child. "Wouldn't know. Never really seen one up close before 'cause they never really lasted long enough..." When Max said nothing I glanced up at him and saw the way his mouth hung open and how he stared at me with sympathy, like I just told him the ending to Harry Potter. I shook my head. "Wow, that came out a _lot_ more depressing than I intended." I smiled innocently and his judgemental frown broke into a crooked smile. I didn't notice the small mole by the corner of his mouth before and found myself smiling wider.

When he stared at me for what seemed a little too long, he cleared his throat and walked closer to me. "So...I couldn't help but notice your lack of a child yesterday."

"My, how observant."

I flashed a smile then raised his chin, gesturing to the baby. "Whose is it?" His eyes narrowed on me. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," I scowled, but I didn't know why I was offended by that... Didn't last too long. I sighed. "It's Beth's." I paused. "You don't know who that is." I paused again. "Beth is my..." I frowned because I didn't know what she really was to me.

Max lowered his chin again. "Your...?"

"I dunno."

Max slowly bobbed his head. "Yeah, I had a lot of those too."

_Had_. I felt something sick inside of me at the mentioning of that simple word. Past tense really can make all the difference. I pretended he didn't say it – seemed like the kind thing to do.

Max stared at me and I felt uncomfortable; on display. He removed his hands from his pockets and awkwardly raised them in front of him, not knowing what to do with them. He crossed his arms, itched his elbow then settled for clasping his hands together and holding them out in front of him in _the most_ awkward way.

I stared down at the baby to stop from laughing in amusement. I adjusted my arms, manoeuvring her and propping her head up against my hand. My leg started to ache even more so I perched myself on the edge of the closest bench, which happened to be the one with maps and papers laid out all over it. Immediately the pain in my thigh lessened and I began to notice the aching in my arms.

Had this baby not been so adorable, I would have resented it... Stupid baby.

I looked back up from her and my eyes fell upon Max, who was suddenly standing two feet away from me. My eyes widened a tad due to his lack of boundaries. "Um, wow."

He smirked and bobbed his head bashfully. "I get that a lot."

I snorted, then pressed my lips tightly together to stop from laughing. I shook my head and smiled. "I'm sure you do."

He perched himself next to me, pressing his palms against the table. Max frowned down at me. "You're not very nice."

I grinned. "I get that a lot." Max grinned back.

A moment of silence past as he stared at me and my eyes shifted from him to whatever was behind him. I was comfortable with Max, just not when he stared at me like that, though I'm not gonna lie; it felt pretty good to be stared at like that.

The silence was fine – good, even, but then the baby made a noise.

Then it started crying.

Instinctively I held the tiny human under her chubby arms, extending my own so it was far from me. I'm not proud of it.

"What do I do?!" My eyes were glued to the baby's.

"You're asking me?!"

"Well, I'm not asking the baby!" I shouted over the child's tedious tantrum. "What the hell's wrong with it?!"

Even over the screaming of the thing, I still heard Max noticeably sigh. I glared at him, but then I saw him bobbing his head. "Hold on." He walked around to my other side and hopped up on the bench. As he adjusted his legs into a folded position, seeming to get comfortable, I watched with wide, unblinking eyes. "Trying to enjoy the show?" I growled, still with wide eyes.

He ignored me, still smushing his butt around, trying to get comfortable. Then he did and slapped his hands against his lap. "Alright, gimme the baby."

I cocked a daring brow. "Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes at me before reaching over and taking the baby from my grasp. "Hey—" I stopped myself because pulling the baby away from him seemed a tad illogical as well as painful for the baby, seeing she wasn't a rag that you could pull at.

He grunted a bit with a serious look on his face – which I've observed to be quite rare with him – and then he broke into a bright, happy smile. "Hey, there," he cooed, still with that grin as he raised her up towards his face.

The baby's cries lowered a little bit. I blinked. And so did the baby when looking into Max's equally wide and naive eyes.

He really was like a child.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered through his teeth. "Aren't you just the sweetest widdle thing ever..." He said in a strange baby-talk kinda voice. She made a small cute noise in response.

I frowned. "Okay, gimme the baby back." I know it was petty, but I didn't like that he was better than I was. My jealousy was stronger than my lack of desire to be near the thing. Child. Girl, I mean.

Max laughed. At me.

"What?"

"Man, you really are terrible with kids, aren't you?"

I shrugged all casual, but the uneasy look in my eye begged to differ, and he saw it. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm terrible with kids, which makes sense because I'm terrible with people in general."

"Eh," he shrugged, then flashed me a smirk. "You're not so bad."

I gave him a look. "My how flattering," I said flatly.

He grinned even wider. "You _certainly_ not as pleasant as this little one," he said looking back at the baby, raising her above his head, then onto his lap. He bounced his thigh a bit, making her bounce, which she seemed to enjoy.

He looked to me innocently and once again grinned, and I noticed something; Max had the kind of smile that when you looked at it, you find yourself smiling back.

His joy was contagious.

"Alright, gimme the baby," I said, and now it was only partially because of jealousy.

Max pouted.

I cocked a brow. "Trust me, I doing you a favour."

"How so?"

I smirked. "You really think parents are okay with a stranger holding their baby? Let alone, _this one's _father?" I extended my arms for the baby. "Daryl has... A bit of a temper..."

Max snorted, thinking I was just being dramatic.

"He shot a man. In Reno. Just to watch him die," I said to him bluntly. Had he been introduced to the great Johnny Cash growing up, he would have known I was kidding – not everyone was raised with a singer like Beth.

And at that, he saw the baby as a bomb and handed the kid over to me.

The crying started up again pretty damn quick and it was hard not to take it personally.


	43. Leaders

Chapter 43:

Leaders

_Rick's desire to anywhere near Terminus was non-existent; especially when he remembered all the things that had happened there._

_But now he found himself _in _Terminus and living there. Perhaps indefinitely._

_Rick made a point of knowing where everyone was. He knew that Daryl and Beth were having a talk and that Tara was manning the wall with Abraham. He knew his son was sleeping in one of the empty rooms they were offered by Glenn. And Rick knew _precisely_ where his daughter was: with a boy in the warehouse. A boy from Terminus. _

_Rick thought the words 'boy' and 'terminus' in the same sentence and could taste the bile in his mouth. Rick couldn't trust that Judith wouldn't do something stupid. But Rick had other things to be concerned about – not just the sanity of both his children, but their existence. _

_Rick walked through the courtyard full of people with his hand resting against his holster, which once held a gun, but now held a six inch knife with a serrated blade. People stared at him as he walked by them and every so often he glared back. The suspicious looks made him uneasy, and angry. They acted like _he_ was the enemy, when it was _them_ who killed Michonne and tortured his daughter. _

_He quickened his pace and kept moving through the groups of people towards the opposite side of Terminus where the storage rooms (turned into houses) were, as well as Glenn. Rick had never seen this side of Terminus, and really didn't want to._

_There were about thirty rooms, storage or study rooms which were now houses for the members of Terminus with another small building attached to them. He knew what was in there, before and had no desire to see it again, but Rick knew that's where Glenn would be. _

_So he forced himself through that opened garage door and to keep his eyes open when he saw the same concrete walls and floor. _

_But this time, there weren't the remains of those eaten and brought to slaughter. There were no trembling people or scattered bones, or cages and chains against the walls. _

_They were replaced with long wooden tables that faced the front of the room. There were bookcases overflowing with books lining the walls, and a blackboard propped up against the back wall. A classroom._

_It was like everything that happened had been erased, if not for the bloodstains on the floor. _

_Rick pulled his eyes away from them and looked to Glenn whose back was turned from him as he sat perched on the edge of the front desk with his head lowered. _

_Rick stopped with six tables between them and raised his chin, his blue eyes turning cold. "Glenn."_

_He watched as Glenn raised his head and looked at him over his shoulder. "Hi, Rick," he said and Rick noticed the new gruffness in his voice that wasn't there before. Glenn stood and looked back at him with a steady expression. _

_Just seeing him brought up a rage in the pit of his stomach. He breathed heavily through his nose and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to be calm. Be the leader. _

_Glenn flipped whatever book he was skimming closed and tossed it onto the table and placed his hands on his hips. Rick's hand clenched by his holster. _

"_I came here to..." Rick cleared his throat, "Talk. Leader to leader."_

_Glenn nodded in understanding. "I'm assuming you want to know how we're still alive."_

_Rick glanced around the room before narrowing his smouldering stare on Glenn. "Nope. I'm not here," he had to clear his throat again, "to talk about the past, Glenn. I'm here to talk about now. About your people and mine."_

"_Alright," Glenn said and Rick saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. He didn't want to, but Rick could see the pain and guilt in his eyes. _

"_The people here... Are any of them original members?" He asked and gritted his teeth. _

"_No," Glenn said a little too sharply. Rick waited and Glenn cleared his throat gruffly the same way. "After what happened..." Glenn trailed off and stared down at the bloodstain of the floor between them. "...The remaining members that didn't escape were killed."_

"_All of them?" Rick asked sceptically. He needed to make sure; to make sure that everyone responsible for everything that happened to his family was dead. _

_Glenn nodded, "All but one."_

_Rick gritted his teeth, striding closer to Glenn, but not so close that he could punch him. Rick couldn't trust himself not to. Glenn stared at him with his hands by his sides, like he was willing to take whatever pain Rick inflicted on him. "You're harboring one of those cannibals?" _

_A flash of anger was visible in Glenn's eyes, but he breathed heavily through his nose then kept his tone even; civil. "No... He was a member of Terminus, but not a cannibal."_

"_You're all members of Terminus!" Rick hissed angrily, his hand subconsciously gripping around the handle of his blade. _

_Glenn sighed tiredly, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Rick. "No we're not!" Glenn hissed back. _

_Rick blinked his cold blue eyes, trying to hide the confusion. "'Scuse me?"_

_Glenn rubbed a bruised hand against his lips, just like he always did when he was agitated. Some things never change. "Rick, you really think Maggie and I would want to _stay here_ after everything that happened to us?"_

_Rick didn't say anything. _

_Glenn shook his head and his eyes widened slightly. "You're forgetting the fact that you left us behind, Rick," he growled. _

"_We thought you were dead."_

_Glenn swallowed hard again and slowly nodded. "Yeah, I know..." Rick's knuckles turned white from the grip on his knife. _

_Glenn let out a breath and dropped his head into his hands for a moment before looking back to Rick. The guilt in his eyes were gone, but so was the anger. All Rick saw was the broken sadness. _

_Glenn was the one to break the silence. "When they took me and Maggie away, they didn't kill us."_

_Rick swallowed hard, trying to ignore the massive lump in his throat. Somehow, all these years thinking they were killed was more comforting than thinking about the alternative. _

"_They..." Glenn breathed heavily, "They brought us here," he told Rick, gesturing widely to the room they were now in. He pointed to the bloodstain on the floor, which Rick was standing on. "That's my blood."_

_Rick's eyes softened, but he didn't want them to. His eyes focused on the blue bruising on his hand and grew cold again. _

_Glenn pulled his eyes away from the bloodstain and stared at Rick. One leader to another. "We could never stay in Terminus after what happened, Rick." He bobbed his head. "So we didn't."_

_Rick stared at him coldly in wait for an explanation. _

"_Me and the other prisoners started our own community. In the city."_

_Rick blinked. "What?"_

_Glenn nodded. "We figured it was the only place left standing that no one would go to. And no one did – for seventeen years, until the Royals."_

_Rick frowned. He vaguely remembered hearing the term 'Royal' before, he just couldn't place it. The information was overwhelming for him, but he needed to know more. If he wanted to protect the members of his group, he needed to know everything to keep them safe, even if it meant conflicting emotions towards Glenn, the man who saved his life. _

_The taste of bile formed in his mouth again when he remembered the fact that if it wasn't for Glenn, Rick would be dead; he would never have seen Carl or Lori again._

_Because of Glenn._

_But Rick's eyes kept setting on the bruises on his hand, and all thoughts turned back to his daughter being tortured by the man before him. _

"_Who are the Royals?"_

_Glenn did his best to remain calm and formal; trying his best to be a leader when his own stood in front of him. "They're this... group..." He chewed on his lip when he thought of how to explain it. "A community of guys who do... terrible... things. They're mostly men who can hold their own, but some are women and children. But they aren't with them by choice, mostly."_

_More bile formed in the back of Rick's throat and he tried his best to ignore it. "And how did you end up back here?"_

_Glenn's lips were pressed tightly together before speaking. "Our community expanded. We started off in the city and more and more people found up; more communities joined with ours and the city became ours. The group separated into different sections incase of situations like this."_

"_Like what?" _

_Glenn clearly didn't feel comfortable telling Rick anything, but he knew he had to. If not out of respect,then out of debt. "A group of about twenty moved back to Terminus and another group of no more than ten moved to a school about fifty miles from here. But most of us were in the city. We kept separated incase walkers overrun the areas, or if a situation like the governor happened again."_

_Rick couldn't help but feel impressed by Glenn's community. It was a logical system that Rick never considered. Maybe if that had happened in Washington, they wouldn't have had to move away. _

"_The Royals don't know about Terminus, or the school, but they had enough men and weapons to attack us."_

_Rick's eyes narrowed on him sceptically. "If you had so many people, then where are they now?" He couldn't help but have noticed the significantly smaller amount of people in Terminus than what he was saying. _

_Glenn swallowed hard, like Rick wasn't the only one with a permanent lump in his throat. "Like I said: they had weapons and people... We weren't strong enough. We didn't have enough soldiers or guns, at the time."_

_Rick sighed heavily and pinched the arch of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. All he could remember was everything that happened with the governor. When Hershel died and when he thought everyone he loved was dead. _

"_Ok," Rick said gruffly. "Are you planning a war?"_

"_Yes," Glenn said simply. Not as though it was a given, or that it was a tough decision. _

_Rick sighed, placing his hands on his hips. Slowly he shook his head. "I can't be a part of this. Not me or my people."_

_Glenn nodded. "I can respect that." He cleared his throat, placing his hands back on his hips. "But know that your people are welcome here."_

_Rick tried to say 'thank you' but couldn't manage to get the words out. His eyes still locked onto Glenn's bruised hand. Instead Rick nodded and turned to walk away. _

_He got to the opened garage door when Glenn spoke up again. "She forgave me."_

_Rick's fist clenched by his side, his nails digging into his palm, and he could feel the wetness from the blood drawn. He stared directly at Glenn, whose steady leadership expression broke. The guilt was obvious again, even from a distance. "If I had known..." The look on Rick's face made Glenn trail off._

"_I never wanted to hurt her... Even before I knew who she was."_

_Rick's jaw clenched, and he stared down at his opened hand, now with red marks from his fingernails. Rick raised his gaze to look at Glenn, his eyes colder than ever, like ice. "If you lay a hand on my daughter again, I will kill you."_


	44. Whatever it takes

Chapter 44:

Whatever it takes

Terminus,

16 years ago

Beth hugged herself anxiously, her fingers digging painfully into the flesh of her arms as she paced around the cement room. Her feet ached from walking and her head pounded so hard she could hear the throbbing, or maybe she was just imagining it.

Her eyes darted towards the metal door whenever she heard the slightest movement from behind it. Beth's hands started shaking in anticipation and fear for what was to come, and her fingers dug deeper into her skin, drawing blood. It was only when blood was drawn that Beth dropped her hands to her sides, knowing how pissed Daryl would be if he knew.

Beth wasn't supposed to be wallowing in fear and wait; she was supposed to do whatever it took to survive.

_Daryl._

The thought of him made her ache. The last Beth saw of Daryl was through the back window of a car, running after her until she was hit over the head with something blunt and cold, like the edge of a gun. That's why her head was still throbbing, and why her forehead had streaks of dried blood.

Beth couldn't think about Daryl. The mere thought of him being alone out there nearly killed her, and she couldn't feel that way right now. But Beth couldn't help it; she wasn't Michonne or Maggie; she wasn't strong like them and every second, Beth knew she was on the verge of tears.

When the tears began to well up in her eyes, she clawed at her arms again, forcing herself to focus on a different kind of pain, no matter how guilty she felt about it. Beth sniffled as she continued pacing from one side of the room to the other, with the caged up window where the light of a new day shined through.

Every moment she found her muscles give and her body started to relax, she heard another noise, and tensed up again.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God..._

Her knife was gone, and so was Daryl; she had nothing to keep her safe anymore, and that terrified her, but not as much as the fear of how Daryl was doing.

_He's gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone._

Beth didn't know she was crying until she wiped at her cheek and felt the hot wetness of tears. She wanted to be smart and tough and brave like Maggie, or Michonne or Daryl, but she couldn't – she wasn't them. And maybe if she had made it this far, she could make it through this.

For a moment, Beth convinced herself this was true, until the metal door screeched open and a man with a smile walked through.

...

_Terminus, _

_Present Time_

_Beth's eyes were dry, puffy and red from tears, but she didn't need to cry anymore. She allowed herself one moment of vulnerability, then stopped. She couldn't allow herself to be the way she used to be – if she was still that same girl, she wouldn't be alive today. She would have died, long ago in this very place. _

_She needed to be strong; the way Daryl taught her. _

_Beth hands clenched at her oversized stomach as she walked by the fence. Beth had been doing this for the past hour, and her feet screamed in pain because of it. She had gone around the entire premise four times and the sun was scorching her bare arms, but she didn't care. _

_Beth didn't need to ask Daryl to leave her alone, because he just knew. Daryl said he'd go get their child and check out the conditions for her. Beth couldn't stop thinking about the way he stuttered when talking about their child and he had to stop himself from saying 'Maggie'. _

_Beth's feet began to ache more and more by the time she reached the garage and a grimness formed in the pit of her stomach when she remembered the first time she was in there, behind that metal door in the interrogation room. _

_..._

Terminus

16 years ago

"Hi, my name is Gareth," the man said with a smile. Beth stood there with her hands clenched by her sides, trying her best to stop from trembling. If she couldn't be brave, maybe she could act it.

Like Daryl.

Gareth slowly arched a brow, still with that kind smile. It made her sick. "And what might your name be?"

"Be—Beth," she said, but she didn't think it would have come out so pathetic sounding. She bit at her bottom lip, forcing herself to look tough, and took a step back from him, her shoulder blades touched the cool metal of the giant pipe behind her. Her fingers started shaking again. "What are you going to do to me?"

Gareth grinned, and she looked for any hint of evil behind those kind seeming eyes. This man was the leader; the man who abducted her and tried to kill her _and _Daryl. It dawned on her that that house was set up for them – it was a trap.

Maybe Daryl was right; maybe there are no good people out there.

_No._ Beth refused to believe that, no matter what.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of his small chuckle. "I am not going to do anything to you," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning forward and arching his brows higher, "I promise."

Beth was too afraid to move, or speak, or do anything. All she could do was stare at this man who abducted her and tried to kill her; the man with the kind smile. She wished he wasn't so nice. It was a lie, and that just made it worse.

Beth started to feel sick.

Gareth smiled again, running a hand through his smooth brown hair. His slender fingers scratched at the stubble of his square jaw. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. I mean, after all, my people did kidnap you, but we mean you no harm." Just then, his emerald eyes looked her up and down. Beth felt a shiver run down her spine, and the sickness in her stomach got worse. Since she was fourteen, she had been looked at like this, and it never felt good. It always made her feel vulnerable and sickened. She folded her arms across her chest like a barrier from him.

He wanted her.

Gareth smiled kindly again, dimples appearing in his cheeks. "Usually, we keep that place as a safe house."

Beth chewed at her lower lip, her fingers digging into her flesh again, but this time it was to keep from throwing up.

He sighed, almost jokingly emphasized. "We set up that house for travellers; food and water are placed in there for those who need it, and then we see if the people want to come here." He made a gesture with his arms.

Beth still didn't know where 'here' was.

"I'm sorry with the way the guys handled it... Alex... Well, he can get a little crazy sometimes," he said, that last word coming out as a breath. He itched at the back of his ear, staring at the floor, trying to look awkward and harmless, but Beth knew better. Daryl taught her a thing or two about people, and so did her dad.

He raised a flat hand in front of him in an easing way. Beth flinched. "I can assure you they are being reprimanded for their actions."

Beth's big blue eyes narrowed on him.

"Look, the reason we took you... by force... is because Alex thought you were being held against your will by the redneck—"

"Daryl," Beth snapped, finally having the courage to speak. "His name is Daryl."

His eyes opened wider, innocently like a puppy's. "I'm sorry." He smiled again. "We thought you were in danger."

Beth just shook her head, her courage was brief. All she wanted was to be back with Daryl.

Gareth sighed. "Apparently we were wrong, but at the time..." He shoved his hands back in his pockets and shrugged his square shoulders. "...We couldn't risk a young woman like you being in danger. We were trying to do what was right."

_Bullshit,_ Beth thought, but didn't say it out loud. She just stared Gareth in those emerald eyes with the golden flicks in them. She knew her stare was innocent looking and vulnerable; harmless. So was his, but hers wasn't a lie.

"We really do mean you no harm, I swear it," he said and Beth could feel the bile forming in the back of her throat. Her fingernails dug further into her pale flesh.

"See?" He said, then reached behind his back and pulled out a knife.

Immediately Beth stammered, but her back was already against the pipe, and all she did was make a small, uncontrollable gasp.

"Wow, easy," Gareth said raising his hands in surrender, further 'proving' his harmlessness. The glint of the sun on the long blade burned her eyes, but then he lowered it to the floor in front of him.

Beth stared down and realised it was _her _knife. She pulled her eyes away from it and stared at Gareth in confusion.

Gareth smiled at her one more time, bobbing his head. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning his back to her and walking out the door. "I think you're gonna like it here..." Before he left, he looked at her and smirked. "Oh, and uh... Welcome to Terminus."

But Gareth made a mistake.

For one flash of a second, Beth saw beneath that smile. She saw something cold in his eyes, and that was something she had a knack for picking up on. People always thought Beth was that naive girl who trusted everyone, but they were wrong. She just knew who was worth trusting, and Gareth was not one of those people.

She knew he was evil, and that she needed to escape.

It was in that moment that Beth didn't need to bite her lip to stop from trembling, or clench her arms to stop from throwing up. She knew now more than ever that she needed to be strong, and that surviving was the only thing that mattered.

Beth would do whatever it took to survive, because that's what Daryl tried to teach her in those few days. She would have to be strong and brave and smart.

Beth would not allow herself to cry or shake in fear. Surviving was the only thing that mattered, now, and to do that, she needed to pretend.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Okay, I know it's been awhile again, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. Depending on what you guys think, I might focus on Beth flashbacks a little more - maybe for the next chapter?


	45. Dating

Chapter 45:

Dating

For about an hour or two it was just me and the little one in the hospital wing. I bounced her up and down on my knee for a bit, clothed her in a onesie that Max gave me as well as fed her with the bottle of baby formula. Apparently Beth's little one wasn't the only baby to ever be in Terminus.

Now the kid was fed, burped, changed (with much disgust and difficulty, might I add) and unconscious. She laid against my legs, propped up on the bed I'd slept in the night before and stared down at it – her. She was so peaceful and stupid, it really calmed me down. I couldn't stop smiling, but my legs were starting to go a little numb. The sealed up hole in my leg was throbbing, still, but I'd grown to ignore it.

But this was mainly because I was afraid to move. I didn't want to wake her up, and I was mildly scared that if I moved, I would drop her. So I just stayed still, hoping for Beth or Tara or someone to take her away from me.

It was illogical. The _only_ person in our entire group who had never even seen a baby up close was the one taking care of it.

But finally someone came to interrupt my solitude with the weakest most useless thing in the world. I was hoping it would be Beth, because I was worried about her, but I knew she wouldn't be willing to walk through the warehouse and that was understandable. But it was Daryl.

The second I saw him, I smiled instinctively. Generally looking at Daryl made me feel better, no matter what pain I was in because I knew he was like my own personal hero. It's a sad thing when your hero lets you down.

When I remembered Beth, my smile twitched into a frown and I turned my attention back to the baby.

His loud thumping footsteps stopped by the end of the corridor four beds from me, with his thumb hooked around the strap of his crossbow which hung behind his shoulder. He nodded his chin and breathed a gruff "Hey."

I stared down at the baby instead. "Hey," I said back coldly.

"Still pissed at me?"

I shrugged, then snapped my head in his direction. "I'm not pissed, Daryl, I'm just disappointed," I said with a scowl and a lifted brow. I really was, but I still couldn't help but crack a smile and neither could he. It was a sad half-smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I wasn' lyin' when I said Beth was tough." He made a loud manly sniff, clearly trying to maintain masculinity. "Beth ain't mad at me, or nothin'."

I pressed my lips tightly together in a line, adjusting my hold on the kid. I glanced down at 'Maggie' before looking back to Daryl. "Is she gonna be okay?" I always hated it when people said that, because usually it was a pointless question. But in this case, I had no idea. After all, Beth was tougher than I thought, apparently.

Daryl's lips pressed together tightly like mine did, but in contemplation. Eventually he nodded. "Mh hm."

"Just..." I didn't know where I was going with this, so I just let the words come out. "You know, when I was being stupid and reckless, you tore me a new one!" I thrusted an accusatory finger at him before anxiously bringing my hand back to the kid to keep it supported.

He nodded. "I know."

I sighed tiredly. "Look, I don't know what it's like to be you; to have the responsibility that you do." I didn't know why I was bringing this up but I didn't care. At least my voice wasn't raised like his was. "But you're like... the _best_ dude I know!" I frowned up at him. "How could you do something so _not _you?"

Daryl shook his head. "Now, that ain't fair."

I scowled. "No. What you did to Beth wasn't fair."

Daryl's hand clenched around the strap of his crossbow angrily.

"Y'know, there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and I pretty much live on that line, but I've never been a coward." I knew this was true. I took pride in being brave, even though no one else did. And if they did notice it in me, they didn't care. I'd rather be stupid sometimes and brave most, than being a coward. " You've always been brave! I have _always_ looked up to you for that," I said, controlling my strength on the baby's grasp, trying not to squeeze too hard.

My entire body shook when Daryl growled angrily and smacked his hand against the framing of the bed closest to him. His strength made the metal of the legs screech against the cement floor, but I focused on his aggressive scowl. "I can't be your hero, Asskicker!" He covered his mouth with his hand like he was trying to take back the words.

I just stared at him as he started his angry pacing from the end of one bed to the other.

He stopped and stared at me, the crossbow thudding against his shoulder blade. "I'm not good enough to be your hero. I can't be brave all the time!" Just then, he bit his lip, staring down at his shoes. Then his voice got really quiet and I almost couldn't hear him. "I'm jus' gonna disappoint you."

I know my heart was supposed to melt in that moment at Daryl having an emotional moment, but it didn't. This world had made me hard, and so had he. Sympathy wasn't an emotion worth feeling.

I just rolled my eyes, staring back at the baby. "That's bullshit." I grimaced. "Stop with the tedious self-deprecating crap. You're a brave guy who made a mistake, and this is what you get for it." I shrugged, not knowing what he looked like in that moment; all I saw was his body go limp from the corner of my eye. I would have seen more if my other eye wasn't swollen shut.

"Now," I said, looking up at him with a serious expression. I could tell his eyes focused on my bruising more than anything else. He looked at me like I was an equal and not some girl who needed to be coddled and looked after. His eyes were full of empathy when he stared at my bruised face, not sympathy.

"You've yelled at me for being stupid, and now I've yelled at you for being cowardly. We've both made mistakes, and now we're even." That was pretty much the only way I could think to end the conversation without it being lame and emotional. That was our reconciliation.

I didn't think I would see much emotion from Daryl because that was just part of his charm, but there was this adoring look of childish hope in his eyes, if only for a second. Guess he needed to hear that. He grunted and bobbed his head. "M'kay."

I smirked at him before staring back down at the baby. I was amazed that she hadn't woken up. My right thigh was now completely numb as well as my right butt cheek, while the other continued to throb in pain. I was _just _shot. Every part of me wanted to scream at Daryl to take his goddamn baby from me and I think he noticed.

"Uh... I actually came here for her," he mumbled, pointing his finger at the baby.

"Oh thank god!" I breathed in relief before I could stop myself. I gently raised her towards Daryl who strode towards me, the little kiddo's little feet dangling in the air, covered by the blue onesie, her baby blanket that was once mine was still in my lap. "Take it."

Daryl did, frowning down at me as he did so with judgement. He tucked her in his big muscular arms. "The baby's not an 'it', Judith, she's a 'she'."

I smiled innocently up at him. "...And does 'she' have a name?" He noticeably twitched in discomfort and I frowned. "I mean... I'm guessing Beth didn't want to keep calling her Maggie." It never occurred to me that this might be a sensitive subject.

He shrugged, keeping his steel blue eyes on his kid. He glanced at me for no more than a second. "Any suggestions?"

I clicked my tongue. "Fairly confident I don't get a say."

Daryl gave a small snort and started bouncing a little bit, smiling down at his new born daughter. He was so hypnotized by her that he didn't say anything else when he started walking away towards the wall by the doorway. He propped himself up against it while hugging his sleeping kid. He only gave me a glance lasting a millisecond before looking back to his daughter.

"'Course y'get a say... I named you, di'nt I?"

I grinned. "Yeah, but what name could possible top 'Lil' Asskicker'?" I joked, folding my legs, rubbing at them as the feeling in my thigh returned and the numbness was replaced with a tingling. "Cool, so I get a say?" I grinned.

He shrugged. "Guess so."

Then I frowned, shaking my head. "I don't like it; too much pressure."

Daryl smiled, staring down at his kid and I didn't know if the smile was because of me or her. The idea of getting a say was kinda cool, but the thought that that name would be permanent scared me. I didn't really have any desire to name the kid.

When you give things names, you get attached.

For awhile, Daryl and I just remained in silence. Eventually I leaned back against the wall and propped my legs back up against the bed. It was nice. I missed these quiet moments Daryl and I shared. I especially missed the ones that weren't interrupted.

But then Max, emerged from the doorway in a hurry. He took long strides up to me, either ignoring Daryl, or unaware that he was with us.

"Okay, the sexual tension is killing me," he blurted out, his finger raised in front of him like he was scolding me. His naive and naturally wide eyes focused on me. "Clearly I like you and I sincerely doubt your unlikeable nature is going to change that – and I don't know if you like me... Maybe you're just always this slutty and treat everyone the way you treat me."

It became apparent to me that Max didn't know Daryl was in the room.

"If you were, I'd believe that, 'cause you're hot enough to pull it off," he said with a shrug, placing his pointed hand on his hip, then immediately letting his hand drop to his side like he didn't know what to do with himself while he rambled. "And when I say 'hot' I mean it in a respectful way that hopefully _won't _earn me a kick in the nuts," he said and ignored my blank expression, "Anyways, the point is that I, Max – I'm not going to tell you my middle name – Wolf would like to take you, Judith Something-rather on a date."

I opened my mouth to reply, but his quick-paced speech interrupted me.

"Note how I didn't ask you, but sorta _suggested _you, because apparently assertive masculinity is important in a dude, even though it doesn't exist in me – but you don't need to know that, so..." He let out a heavy breath, clearly the speech having deprived him of oxygen . "Judith. Go on a date with me."

I waited to see if he had finished.

He grimaced. "Please?"

Then I couldn't help but smirk. "How many times did you say that speech in the mirror before coming over here?"

I made a dismissing gesture with his hand, rolling his eyes. "Only once or twice." He looked at me with those wide hopeful and naive eyes. "Is that a yes to the date?"

My smirk remained but a crease formed between my brows. "Hm... I dunno," I said, then made a point of craning my neck to the side, looking past Max's lean frame. "Daryl, what d'you think?"

It was amazing seeing a guy go from having so much red in his cheeks to being as pale as a sheet (not covered in walker blood, or my own). All the blood drained from his face as he slowly turned his body around to stare at the Daryl.

He snorted in amusement loudly, staring down at his shoes. I could see him laughing quietly to himself. I grinned, suppressing a laugh.

Max tried to laugh along with us to ease his fears, but it came out in an unnaturally feminine, high-pitched way. I saw Max point a mildly shaky finger at Daryl.

"You're Daryl."

He nodded, trying to suppress his own laugh. "Yup," he said with a wide smirk on his face.

My grin grew.

"...The guy who... killed a man in Reno?" His voice quivered, and quietened to a sorta squeak. "Did you really do it just to watch him die?" From this angle, I could only see one of his eye's wide with fear and vulnerability, not hope like they normally were.

"'Scuze me?" Daryl spoke, and I could see the aggression rise in himself, whether he was really irked, or not. He stood up straight and took a threatening step closer to him. Even when holding a baby, he was terrifying.

Max coughed uncomfortably, taking a noticeable step away from him while Daryl took another step closer.

"What d'you just say to me, kid?"

I was still amused, but my smile was gone, and I stood up, getting between them. The minute I rose to my feet, Max stumbled behind me like I was a human shield.

I raised a hand in front of me and Daryl. He kept taking steps closer to Max. "Relax, Johnny Cash," I said with a minor eye roll that I didn't think he saw.

Daryl turned his aggression onto me, but at least his arms and hands were preoccupied with his daughter. "You told this punk I shot a man in Reno?" He growled with squinting eyes.

I frowned. "Are you seriously scolding me right now?" I snorted.

He stared me down. "What?" He growled gruffly. "I thought y'wanted me to be your hero." His eyes squinted further into slits. "Well this is me jus' lookin' out for you."

I frowned. "You don't even know him."

His arm wrapped further around his daughter for studier control, extending the other one to point at Max over my shoulder. "I know he's a member of Terminus," he growled. He took a step closer to me so I had to raise my chin a bit. "That's all I gotta know."

I gritted my teeth. But when I couldn't think of anything to refute his point, I just narrowed my eyes on him daringly. "You asshole."

When without reason, go for something immature and ineffective.

Daryl and I glared at each other, so little room between us, I had to crane my neck with him lowering his stubbled chin. Then, with triumph, the corner of his mouth curled into a microscopic, momentary smile.

Then he snorted in derision and walked away, then turned back. He made a dramatic gesture with his arm before using it to better support the baby. "To think you were disappointed with me not five seconds ago!"

I groaned, completely forgetting that Max was standing directly behind me; I was his shield. Still, I was more amused than repelled. I kept my narrow glare on Daryl who now stood closer to the door.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh! What a shock!" I sneered, "_Once again_ you're disappointed in me! Wow, it must Wednesday."

"The hell d'you know 'bout days, girl?" He growled and I could hear the low rumble in his voice.

I clenched my hands by my sides. "I know that every single one of them, you'll be there _scolding _me!... And I only deserve it, like, ninety percent of the time!" I made a twirling gesture with my arm. "Kind of a broken record, Daryl."

Before Daryl could say anything else, I raised my voice. "Well, guess what! You don't get a say in what _or who _I do, because in the end, I could _totally_ kick your ass in a fight." A lie, but only I knew that for sure.

I understood that it was a mistake implying I would sleep with Max. But only a small part of me regretted it.

Daryl's lips pressed tightly together in that aggressive way he did before throwing something. Of course, this time he couldn't.

He pointed a threatening finger in Max's direction. "He touches you in _any_ way, I'll cut his damn dick off, y'hear me boy?" He growled lowly at Max. His voice was more timid than I thought it would be and I was impressed by his restraint.

I then remembered Max's existence again at the mentioning of him. Out of the corner of my un-swollen eye, I saw him inch away from me. He cleared his throat. "That was not my intention, I promise, sir," he said, his voice trembling.

_Sir?_

He took a brave, brave step in front of me, closer to Daryl. "Sir, I promise not to touch your daughter in _any _way. I swear."

Daryl snorted. "Boy, it ain't me you gotta worry about. I ain't her father, but you'll know him by the feel of his foot up your ass!" He growled, his voice starting off even, but rising.

I didn't think about what Dad would say until Max called Daryl my father. I found it kind of uncomfortable with him thinking Daryl was my dad, and I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach for the small feeling of longing that he was.

How would Dad react?

I knew he had a mean streak, and a minor anger problem... He had the tendency to be civil until pushed over the edge. I sincerely hoped this wouldn't have that effect.


	46. Monster

Chapter 46:

Monster

_Maggie sat on the edge of her mattress with her head tucked underneath her arms, rocking back and forth on her butt. She didn't know what else to do, but when hours had past, she couldn't just _sit_ there, anymore. It would be too pathetic. _

_Maggie stood up and wiped whatever remaining tears were left on her cheek with the back of her hand, then pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. She ran her fingers through her short greasy hair, trying to get her thoughts together, but it was hard. _

_She couldn't think._

_Maggie went to the window that looked out onto the train tracks; that's what Glenn did whenever he needed to think. Maggie never understood that before, but she did now. Unlike Glenn, Maggie never felt any real pressure to being a leader, because in the end, she was Glenn's sidekick. It was always Glenn who made the tough decisions while Maggie stood by his side, helping in every way possible, but it rarely weighed on her._

_Not like this._

_Looking out at the long open road was almost freeing. It made her feel clear and sharp. It made the sickening feeling in her stomach disappear, but was replaced with this depressing gloom because Beth was now in her mind. _

Monster.

_That's what Beth sees when she looks at her and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was try and make it better, but she didn't know how. There was no way to take back what happened to Judith. Maggie was a monster, but when she looked at her reflection in the grass, she didn't see one. _

_Maggie didn't feel like a monster. Not even when Beth appeared in the reflection of the window. _

_She whipped her body around to face her little sister. "Beth, honey—"_

_Beth raised a hand in front of her face. Maggie stopped talking and just stood there, the distance of the room between them. _

"_Maggie, stop," Beth said, her voice still soft, but her eyes were cold. Maggie didn't notice the hardness in them until now, and how it wasn't there sixteen years ago. She pressed her thin lips together before speaking. "This isn't about you... I'm always the girl who loves everyone no matter what, and forgives. I _always_ forgive, and it's hard. I can't keep doing this, and it ends now!" Beth's voice grew tougher as she spoke, and that toughness gave Maggie a mixture of fear and pride. _

_Beth shook her head. "I am done forgiving people. It's too much." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "You hurt Judith!" She croaked, then clapped a hand against her chest, above her heart. "_My _Judith! I care about her more than I do myself."_

_When Beth said those words, Maggie broke. She didn't allow herself to cry, but she let her hands tremble by her sides when she remembered the last person who said that. Sixteen years ago back in the prison, she heard Glenn say that to Daryl about her and Merle. She _knew_ what that meant; what that kind of love entailed, and how truly rare it was. _

_Beth was like a mother to Judith. And she almost killed her. _

_Maggie's hands clenched together by her sides and she stopped gnawing at her bottom lip to stop from speaking. She swallowed hard before parting her lips. _

"_No one regrets what happened to Judith more – what _I _did to Judith..." She let out a shaky breath before saying the next part. "But if it were to happen again; if some kid was to trespass into our home without me knowing if their intentions were good, I would definitely do the exact same thing again."_

_Maggie heard her sister's breath catch, and she saw the look in her eye. _

_Disgust. _

_Maggie could feel the sting of tears forming in her eyes, and she forced herself not to cry. "Without question."_

_Maggie stared into her sister's sneering eyes, and curled upper lip. She stared at the disgusted expression on Beth's face as tears fell down Beth's sweet, serene cheeks silently. _

_Maggie was a monster. But even when Beth stared at her like that, she still didn't feel like a monster, and she didn't want to. _

_Beth closed her eyes shut tightly before opening them and staring at Maggie, forcing the tears away the same way Maggie did. When her thin lips parted to say something, she could already feel her stomach churn for whatever words came her way. _

"_I'm not the same little girl I used to be, Maggie. Not since Terminus. Not since Daddy, and not since Judith." Beth's expression didn't grow cold, but it became stoic. Her words weren't intended to hurt Maggie, and Maggie knew that. But that just made it hurt even worse. _

"_I will never forgive you for this."_

_Every part of Maggie wanted to fall to her knees and cry. She wanted to scream and beg, but she didn't because she was tougher than that. And because no matter what Beth was telling her, Maggie still didn't feel like the monster Beth thought she was. _

"_What happened to you, Beth?" Maggie choked. _

"_Terminus!" Beth snapped. Her voice was only sharp for a moment before her expression grew soft and kind again, and the cold edge left her tone. "You're not the first person to bring someone into that room, Maggie," Beth said, pointing briefly behind her to the interrogation room with the metal door. "I've seen what happens behind that door because of people like you and Glenn and Gare—" Beth stopped herself. The mere mentioning of his name was too much too handle, but like Beth said: she wasn't that little girl, anymore. _

_She let out a shaky breath. "Because of people like Gareth."_

_..._

Terminus,

16 years ago

Beth knew when she left that room with nothing but her knife that she wouldn't be able to just walk out of Terminus. Things are never that easy, but Beth would do anything she could to get out, and that meant using her head.

_Play nice_.

That was what she told herself. If Beth was getting out of there, she needed their trust, or at least their guard to be down. People thought of Beth as this innocent little girl with big doe eyes that was harmless, and maybe they were right, but there was no reason not to use that to her advantage.

So when Beth walked out of that room, she made it no more than a foot out the door before two men with guns strapped over their backs came by her side. She was afraid. Of course Beth was afraid of men with guns, but they made it seem like there was no reason to be. They led her from the warehouse full of strangers with maps, signs and microphones in front of them on table outside.

"No need to be afraid, lady," one of them grunted. He kept a fair distance between them and she knew it was for her benefit, but even so the grip on her hunters' knife tightened.

_There are still good people out there._ Beth chewed at her lip, trying to force that hope from her mind, because she knew she needed to survive. _Think like Daryl. _

"I'm Nathan," the same guy said. She glanced up at him for a second seeing that he was tall. Taller than Daryl and with massive arms that bulged through his green v-neck shirt. He had dark skin and rustled black hair with brown eyes.

He looked cold and threatening.

She cleared her throat. "I'm Beth," she said then looked up at him and forced herself to smile.

"And I'm Alex, by the way," the other guy said with too much eagerness and almost desperation. Beth looked to him then and forced another smile on her face, bearing teeth. "Hi," she said, adding weakness into her tone. It wasn't that hard to fake.

"Nice meeting you, Beth," he said, putting his hand out as they walked past the building. Beth stared down at his long, bony fingers with repulsion. Even so, she forced her tiny hand into his.

Alex gave her a toothy smile and just by looking at him she could tell he was creepy, especially when he looked her up and down. "Gareth's got good taste," he said and Beth stared straight ahead, her heart starting to race.

"Shut up, man," Nathan said, and Beth tried not to smile, or feel gratitude. It was hard for Beth to think differently. He crooked his mouth into a small smile before staring back ahead. "Ignore him. I do."

Beth forced herself to smile.

Alex turned around and started walking backwards in front of Beth, and he was so fidgety she flinched at his sudden movements. "So right now we're takin' you to get some food," he said with a clicking of his fingers. Beth grimaced despite herself, then changed her distorted expression into a smile. "And then—"

"Then we're gonna take you back to the warehouse to have our people take a closer look at your head," he said and Beth saw the concern in his eyes; she didn't know if it was genuine or if she was imagining it.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said honestly, placing her fingers gently to her temple then wincing from the sharp pain.

Nathan gave her another crooked flash of a smile before staring back ahead. She watched as he adjusted the strap of his gun and immediately Beth tensed, and he noticed.

"Relax, we're under orders to keep you safe."

"Is that why you're guarding me?"

"Yep," he said simply, then shrugged. "That, and to keep our people safe from you." He then smirked, "Wouldn't want you killing us with that knife, or nothin'."

_Incorrect grammar_.

It was weird that that was what Beth was thinking about, but the minute she did, she thought of Daryl. She hated how terrible his grammar was, but she also loved it. She felt a pang in her chest and knew tears were threatening to fall again, but she forced them away.

They kept walking and Beth's eyes lingered on a closed red shipping container as they passed it. She noticed the fact that there was a lock on it, and empty packets of food on the ground.

Why?

"Here we are," Nathan sighed, almost sounding miserable. Beth looked up at him and frowned, curious about why he would be miserable. Was he against this place, or something? But her attention was drawn away from Nathan ahead, but before she saw the courtyard filled with people, she heard the sizzling of meat on a grill.

Grilled meat?

Beth felt a small smile curl onto her lips and she thought back to the last time she had grilled meat no more than a week ago. Carol was really good with a grill. Immediately she became aware of the empty pit in her stomach, seeing the last time she ate was probably more than fifteen hours ago. With Daryl.

Her smile disappeared.

"You're really gonna like it here. Especially the food," Nathan said and Beth looked up at him. He licked his lips when staring at the barbecue across the courtyard then smiled down at her. His smile was warm, almost familiar.

Nathan placed his large expanded hand between her shoulder blades to lead her to a table. And for a single moment, she realised what seemed familiar about him. She remembered those eyes when they glared at her coldly before he hit her over the head with his gun. He kidnapped her.

He was evil. They all were. And Beth knew this; she had to escape.

"The food is really good," he said with a wink, "It's to die for."


End file.
